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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to change. I believe you absolutely are able to train a seasoned creature, provided that the old dog is willing and ready for growth. Provided that the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, a feat I have struggled with, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the recent past. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least attaining a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who find them delightful). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it pursued me), and spraying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to exit the space, turn off the light and try to ignore its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I visited a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the casement, mostly just hanging out. As a means to be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us yap. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it had an impact (a little bit). Or, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic worked.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they prey upon things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way possible. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that terrible speed induces my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They are said to only have eight legs, but I maintain that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that employing the techniques of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

Just because they are furry beings that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” level, but you never know. A bit of time remains for this seasoned learner yet.