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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and eager for knowledge. As long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was wrong, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am attempting to master, although I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have grappled with, frequently, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species 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, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (unlike other children who adore them). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to engage with any myself, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “dealt” with it by retreating to a remote corner, almost into the next room (lest it pursued me), and emptying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or living with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and ran away. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to forget about its being before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I visited a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the casement, primarily lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, one of us, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it had an impact (somewhat). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become less phobic proved successful.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established 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 somehow offensive way imaginable. The sight of their many legs carrying them at that terrible speed triggers my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they are in motion.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. My experience has shown that taking the steps of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

Simply due to the reality that they are fuzzy entities that dart around at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my shrieks of terror. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and escorting it to the garden” level, but miracles happen. Some life is left for this old dog yet.