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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to change. I believe you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the experienced individual is receptive and eager for knowledge. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an important one, an issue I have battled against, repeatedly, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. This includes three times in the recent past. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

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

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was obviously in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it chased me), and spraying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and annoy everyone in my house.

As I got older, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with dealing with it, while I made whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

Not long ago, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the window frame, for the most part hanging out. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, one of us, just chilling in the sun and listening to us gab. This may seem extremely dumb, but it had an impact (a little bit). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less scared proved successful.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The vision of their many legs propelling them at that terrible speed induces my caveman brain to go into high alert. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that triples when they move.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that implementing the strategy of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are hairy creatures that move hastily extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when I’ve been wrong and motivated by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” phase, but miracles happen. Some life is left for this veteran of life yet.