Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Overcoming Fears, Phobias & Mental Obstacles 6

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four teenagers reflecting on their paralyzing social anxiety (social phobia) and the small, daily “micro-challenges” they set to comfortably talk to strangers.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people (A-D). The people may be chosen more than once.

Which teenager

1   felt physically overwhelmed by their anxiety during a social interaction?

2   claims that their progress was slower than they originally anticipated?

3   found that focusing on someone else’s interests helped ease their own tension?

4   was surprised to discover that others were not judging them as harshly as they feared?

5   mentions that consistent practice has made their daily routine more manageable?

6   used to interpret neutral reactions from people as clear evidence of dislike?

7   initially attempted to avoid situations that triggered their nerves?

8   believes that their current comfort level is a result of incremental steps?

9   admits that even thinking about a future conversation caused them distress?

10   found it helpful to start their challenges with people they would never see again?

Small Steps, Big Changes: Overcoming Social Anxiety

A Ben

For the longest time, the mere thought of making a phone call to order a pizza would make my heart race. I was terrified that any mistake would lead to immediate humiliation. I lived in a cycle of avoidance, convinced that if I just steered clear of group settings, the anxiety would vanish. Obviously, that approach backfired. Last term, I started setting ‘micro-challenges’ to force myself out of my shell. I began by asking strangers for the time—people I knew I wouldn’t run into again, which took the pressure off. Eventually, I felt brave enough to compliment a classmate on their bag. I was bracing myself for an awkward silence, but they just smiled and thanked me. It was a massive revelation: people weren’t scrutinising my every move as intensely as I had presumed. My anxiety hasn’t vanished entirely, but it’s no longer in the driver’s seat.

B Chloe

My social phobia was so severe that I used to dread the cafeteria lunch hour. I was convinced that everyone was whispering about how awkward I was. If I made a comment and someone didn’t laugh, I immediately took it as a personal insult, assuming they found me tedious. To change this, I started trying to find common ground with one person at a time, rather than trying to perform for a group. I noticed someone wearing a band t-shirt I loved, and I managed to choke out a quick question about the music. We ended up chatting for ten minutes. By shifting my focus onto their passion for the music, I completely forgot to monitor my own nervous habits. It was the first time in years I hadn’t felt like a complete outsider, and that tiny success felt monumental.

C Daniel

My social anxiety was a physical beast; it manifested as trembling hands and a throat that felt like it was closing up whenever I had to speak up. I expected to be ‘cured’ after just a few weeks of pushing myself, but that was incredibly naive. The journey toward feeling normal has been agonisingly gradual, with plenty of days where I felt like I’d regressed. However, I’ve learned to accept that setbacks don’t mean I’m back at square one. I’ve started small, like thanking the barista or holding the door for someone at the library. These tiny, low-stakes interactions have gradually built my self-belief. I’m not suddenly the life and soul of the party, but my world feels significantly larger and less frightening than it did this time last year.

D Emma

The most difficult part of my social anxiety was the anticipation. I’d spend hours, sometimes days, agonising over a simple ‘hello’ I’d have to say the next day. I felt like a failure if my voice shook or if I stumbled over my words. My therapist suggested I stop viewing these interactions as performance tests. I started setting a target to just hold eye contact for three seconds, regardless of how nervous I felt. Over time, that target became four seconds, then five. It’s definitely not about being a social butterfly overnight; it’s about the cumulative effect of those seconds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my anxiety is a part of who I am, not an obstacle that prevents me from ever speaking. I’m finally living a life where I’m in control of my voice, even if it wavers occasionally.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four young adults describing the irrational fear of missing out (FOMO) perpetuated by social media and how they learned to find joy in missing events.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   mentions noticing a discrepancy between the digital representation of an event and reality?

2   initially felt that turning down invitations would inevitably lead to losing their friends?

3   was forced to alter their social habits due to reaching a physical breaking point?

4   felt an unexpected wave of happiness when they backed out of an arrangement shortly before it began?

5   acknowledges that they were going out merely to maintain a certain image?

6   realised their constant socialising was detrimental to their academic or career goals?

7   rediscovered an old solitary pastime once they stopped attending every gathering?

8   took the drastic step of completely removing a source of online temptation?

9   notes that true companions will not judge you for needing time to yourself?

10   confesses that they often attended events they had absolutely no interest in, just to avoid feeling left out?

The Joy of Missing Out: Logging Off and Tuning In

A Liam

For years, my entire life was dictated by what my peers were doing online. If I saw a photo of a gathering I hadn’t attended, a knot of anxiety would instantly form in my stomach. I took it for granted that declining an invitation meant I would swiftly be excluded from the group permanently. Consequently, I dragged myself to endless dinners and club nights, spending money I didn’t have. The turning point came when I finally mustered the courage to wipe the primary photo-sharing app off my phone entirely. Removing that constant feed of temptation was incredibly daunting at first, but the liberation I felt afterwards was immense. What surprised me the most was that my genuine mates didn’t care if I skipped a Friday night out; they completely understood my need to recharge. The fear of missing out has been successfully replaced by the joy of staying in.

B Chloe

During my first year of university, my schedule was a relentless marathon of social events. I genuinely believed that if I wasn’t seen at every single society party or weekend trip, I would fade into obscurity. To be completely honest, I frequently dragged myself to awful events I had zero interest in, driven purely by the terrifying prospect of being the only one sitting at home. Eventually, this frantic pace took its toll. I ended up coming down with a severe bout of exhaustion and was bedridden for a fortnight. It was a harsh reality check. While I was forced to recuperate, I noticed that my grades, which had been steadily declining due to my lack of focus, desperately needed attention. Now, I strictly limit my social outings to once a week. Far from feeling isolated, I’ve found that prioritising my well-being and studies is vastly more rewarding than desperately trying to keep up appearances.

C Marcus

Social media has a lot to answer for when it comes to the fear of missing out. I used to be obsessed with curating the perfect online presence, going to trendy festivals and exclusive pop-up events simply so I could post about them later. I wasn’t actually enjoying the music or the food; I was just there to maintain my reputation as the ultimate extrovert. The spell was broken when I went to a highly anticipated beach party. Online, it looked like the event of the decade, filled with glamorous people having the time of their lives. In reality, it was freezing, overcrowded, and absolutely miserable. Seeing my acquaintances shivering in the rain, yet smiling widely for their cameras, was a massive wake-up call. The stark contrast between the digital fabrication and the grim reality made me realise how utterly pointless it all was. I haven’t attended an event just for the photos since.

D Sarah

I vividly remember the exact evening my mindset completely shifted. I was getting ready for a massive birthday bash, feeling overwhelmingly stressed and secretly wishing I could just stay on my sofa. I had my coat on and my hand on the doorknob when I finally decided to send a text making my apologies. The moment I hit send, a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washed over me. It was my first taste of the joy of missing out. Instead of spending the night making small talk in a loud, sweaty room, I dug out my old watercolours—a beloved hobby I had completely abandoned because my weekends were always booked up with social obligations. Spending the evening peacefully painting was infinitely more fulfilling than any party could have been. Giving myself permission to occasionally miss out has allowed me to carve out precious time for the quiet activities that actually bring me genuine happiness.

Exercises:   123456