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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, as long as the mature being is willing and willing to learn. So long as the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and work to become a improved version.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am working to acquire, even though I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Including three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to make sure I never had to handle any personally, but I still freaked out 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 standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (in case it chased me), and discharging a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for handling the situation, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I visited a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the sill, for the most part lingering. In order to be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a her, a gal, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. It sounds rather silly, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less scared did the trick.

Whatever the case, 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 know they consume things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). 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 propel themselves in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way conceivable. The sight of their numerous appendages transporting them at that frightening pace induces my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have eight legs, but I believe that triples when they are in motion.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that taking the steps of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and consciously focusing about their positive qualities, has begun to yield results.

Just because they are furry beings that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when I’ve been wrong and fueled by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” level, but miracles happen. There’s a few years left in this veteran of life yet.