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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to evolve. I think you truly can train a seasoned creature, as long as the old dog is receptive and ready for growth. Provided that the individual in question is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an significant challenge, an issue I have struggled with, frequently, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. This includes three times in the previous seven days. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing with discomfort as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I’ve been working on at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to handle any personally, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and facing the ordeal of 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 half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, by default, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore tasked with dealing with it, while I emitted whimpers of distress and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my method was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its existence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the casement, primarily lingering. To be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it was effective (a little bit). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less scared worked.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The sight of their many legs transporting them at that frightening pace triggers my caveman brain to go into high alert. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that triples when they move.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – if not more. I have discovered that employing the techniques of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and motivated by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this seasoned learner yet.