In our family, action is the antidote to fear

There’s a saying that’s been on my mind a lot lately: “Action is the antidote to anxiety.” It resonates deeply, especially in our household, where uncertainty is part of daily life.

My husband, Jared, has severe hemophilia B and epilepsy — two conditions that bring unique challenges. Together, they often feel like a storm we’re constantly bracing for.

He has every reason to feel anxious. His lifesaving factor IX infusions aren’t readily available in our country, the Philippines. Until recently, we couldn’t even purchase the medication locally. We can now, but the cost is unreasonably high. Hemophilia treatment centers don’t formally exist here, and there’s no structured system for prophylactic treatment. Every bleed is a gamble. Every injury could become far more serious than it should be.

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Then there’s his epilepsy. He never knows when the next seizure will hit or how severe it will be. When the two conditions intersect — like a post-seizure injury that causes internal bleeding — our anxiety spikes even more. It would be easy, even understandable, for Jared to be paralyzed by fear.

But he isn’t.

His illnesses force him to slow down at times. Some bleeds make walking impossible. Some seizures leave him drained. But the moment he feels better, he gets back in motion. He exercises, runs errands, and goes back to work. He refuses to let fear hold him in place.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel anxious; he does, just like anyone would. But he channels that anxiety into action.

When we worry about factor IX availability, we search for solutions: charitable institutions, humanitarian aid, or advocacy. When a bleed sidelines him, he adjusts and finds ways to keep functioning. When a seizure shakes him, he rests, recovers, and then moves forward.

I realize now that this is the only way forward. The alternative — overthinking worst-case scenarios or getting stuck in analysis paralysis — changes nothing. It only keeps us trapped in our heads, never seeking growth or improvement.

I want to be clear, though: When I talk about anxiety here, I’m referring to feelings of worry and fear, not the medical condition. I’ve experienced clinical anxiety myself and know it requires treatment. No amount of sheer willpower can override that.

But when anxiety shows up as paralyzing worry, pursuing just about any action can be the key to breaking free. The smallest steps matter, finding solutions where we can, focusing on what’s within our control, and moving, even when uncertainty looms. Because uncertainty will always be there — for people with hemophilia, for people with epilepsy, for all of us. But so is the choice to keep going despite it.

Jared reminds me of that every day.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from him, it’s that we can choose not to let fear win. We can move forward, even when the path is unclear. Because action, no matter how small, is what keeps us from being swallowed by fear. And sometimes, it makes every bit of difference.

Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.