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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to change. I believe you absolutely are able to train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the mature being is receptive and eager for knowledge. As long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the lesson I am attempting to master, although I am set in my ways? It is an important one, a feat I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least achieving a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out 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 living room surface. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it ran after me), and emptying half a bottle of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I emitted frightened noises and ran away. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to ignore its existence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the sill, mostly just hanging out. As a means to be less scared of it, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, one of us, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us gab. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it had an impact (a little bit). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they prey upon things like insect pests (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way possible. The vision of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity triggers my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I maintain that triples when they are in motion.

But it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. I have discovered that employing the techniques of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and retreat when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.

Just because they are furry beings that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and driven by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but you never know. There’s a few years for this veteran of life yet.