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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to change. I think you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the old dog is willing and ready for growth. So long as the old dog is willing to admit when it was in error, and strive to be a better dog.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the lesson I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, a feat I have struggled with, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the other spiders that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out if one was visibly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had made its way onto the living room surface. I “dealt” with it by retreating to a remote corner, practically in the adjoining space (lest it chased me), and emptying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, by default, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I produced low keening sounds and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to ignore its existence before I had to re-enter.

In a recent episode, I visited a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the window frame, mostly just hanging out. To be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a girlie, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way possible. The vision of their multiple limbs transporting them at that terrible speed triggers my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I maintain that increases exponentially when they get going.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and driven by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years left in this veteran of life yet.