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I firmly hold the belief that it is never too late to evolve. I think you truly can teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and ready for growth. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, a feat I have grappled with, often, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of those large arachnids. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. Including three times in the recent past. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to confront any myself, but I still panicked if one was obviously in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and trying to deal with a spider that had made its way onto the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it ran after me), and emptying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whomever I was in a relationship with or cohabiting with was, automatically, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore tasked with dealing with it, while I produced whimpers of distress and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to exit the space, turn off the light and try to ignore its being before I had to re-enter.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the casement, for the most part lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us chat. It sounds extremely dumb, but it was effective (to some degree). Put another way, actively deciding to become less phobic worked.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they prey upon things like insect pests (creatures I despise). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way possible. The sight of their numerous appendages propelling them at that frightening pace causes my caveman brain to go into high alert. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that multiplies when they are in motion.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that dart around with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they deserve my hatred, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and motivated by baseless terror. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” stage, but miracles happen. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.