Phobia to Nervous moment? Is it normal?

The Thrill That Once Fueled Me

I used to live for those “heartbeat moments.” You know the ones—when the football penalty kick decides the World Cup qualifier, when Mustafizur Rahman bowls the final over in a Bangladesh-India thriller, or when you’re refreshing the HSC results page at 2 a.m., heart pounding like it’s about to burst. Is it a phobia?

Growing up in Bangladesh, those moments were my spark. I’d huddle with friends in our Dhaka flat, shouting at the TV during a tense Tigers match at Sher-e-Bangla Stadium. Or I’d sit on my bed, laptop burning my thighs, waiting for the education board’s website to load my grades. Those nerve-wracking seconds? They made me feel alive, like I was part of something bigger.

When Excitement Turned to Dread

But something changed. It wasn’t overnight—more like a slow creep that started around 2019. I can’t pin it to one moment, but life felt heavier then. Maybe it was the pressure of adulthood, the weight of job hunts, or just the chaos of Dhaka’s streets piling up. Those moments I used to crave—penalty shootouts, last-over nail-biters, results day—stopped feeling thrilling. My chest didn’t buzz with excitement anymore; it tightened with dread. My hands would sweat, not from the rush, but from this gnawing fear of what might happen next

Avoiding the Moments I Once Loved

I started avoiding them. I’d leave the room when the football match went to penalties, pretending I needed water. I’d ask my cousin to check my university admission results and just tell me “pass hoise” before I dared look. During a close cricket match, I’d scroll through my phone, ignoring the roars from the TV. I told myself I was just “being practical,” but deep down, I knew I was scared.

Was It a Phobia?

One night, tossing in bed, I wondered if this was a phobia. I googled and found allodoxaphobia – fear of other people’s opinions. It felt close. Was I scared of what my friends in Gulshan would say if I flunked a course? Or how my family in Narayanganj would react if I didn’t land that bank job? In Bangladesh, where every neighbor seems to know your marks before you do, that pressure’s real. I was always the kid my parents bragged about at eid dawats, the one who “had it together.” Every match, every exam, every big moment felt like a chance to prove I still was that kid

The Real Culprit: My Own Expectations

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t just about others’ opinions. It was me. The weight of my own expectations. The sting of setbacks—like bombing a group presentation at Dhaka University, my voice shaking while classmates stared. Or the time Bangladesh lost a heartbreaker to Pakistan in the T20 Asia Cup, and I felt it in my gut like I’d failed too. Those heartbeat moments stopped being fun.

A Common Struggle in Bangladesh

I’m not ashamed to admit this. I think a lot of us hit this point. Life in Bangladesh throws enough at you—coaching center stress, dodging motorbikes in Dhanmondi, or waiting for a job callback while the bills pile up. A study on stress in urban Bangladesh (BMJ article on urban stress) highlights how these pressures can weigh us down. Those high-stakes moments don’t feel like a game anymore; they feel like another chance to stumble.

Choosing Calm Over Chaos

So I started choosing calm over chaos. Just yesterday, I found myself switching off the TV right before a tense football penalty shootout. Instead, I took a walk through Banani’s buzzing streets, the sun high and bright, and grabbed a jhalmuri to clear my head. I’d also hold off checking my emails for that scholarship update, letting my sister give me the green light first. It’s not running away, it’s protecting my peace. If you’re looking for ways to unwind in Dhaka, check out guide to Dhaka’s best street food spots. Otherwise, I read my own blog post.

Here’s what I’ve learned: it’s okay to step back from the intensity. You don’t have to live for penalty shootouts or results day forever. If those heart-pounding moments start feeling like too much, it’s not a weakness—it’s growth. You’re not “less brave” for wanting quiet; you’re listening to what your mind needs. For me, choosing calm means I’m not letting every moment define me. I’m giving myself room to breathe, to be human, to mess up without feeling like the whole para’s watching.

You’re Not Alone in This Shift

If you’re feeling this too, you’re not alone. That shift from excitement to fear? It’s not a phobia—it’s just life teaching you to prioritize peace. Maybe you’re tired of the pressure to always shine, whether it’s acing exams or cheering through a cricket cliffhanger. It’s okay to crave steady over stormy. One day, I might scream through a Bangladesh T20 win again or refresh my results platform with that old fire. But for now, I’m okay with calm. And I’m learning that’s enough

Life’s high-stakes moments, like football penalties, cricket finishes, or exam results, can shift from thrilling to stressful as you grow. If you’re in Bangladesh and feeling this dread, it’s not a phobia; it’s a sign you’re navigating adulthood’s pressures. Protect your peace, and don’t feel guilty for choosing calm over chaos.

^{Thank for giving me your time while reading this. Getting anyone’s time is the most previous thing for me.}