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I firmly hold the belief that it is never too late to transform. I think you truly can train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am working to acquire, even though I am a creature of habit? It is an significant challenge, something I have grappled with, frequently, for my entire life. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing three times in the last week. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to handle any myself, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the living room surface. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of pesticide toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I emitted whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the casement, for the most part stationary. To be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a her, a gal, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. It sounds quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic did the trick.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they consume things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and almost unjust way possible. The vision of their many legs transporting them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that triples when they are in motion.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that employing the techniques of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that dart around extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when I’ve been wrong and driven by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” phase, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains for this veteran of life yet.