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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to change. My view is you truly can train a seasoned creature, as long as the mature being is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was wrong, 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, although I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, a feat I have battled against, frequently, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least achieving a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any myself, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had made its way onto the family room partition. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it chased me), and discharging a generous amount of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or living with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its existence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I visited a companion's home where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the window frame, for the most part stationary. To be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. It sounds quite foolish, but it was effective (to some degree). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become less phobic worked.

Regardless, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they prey upon things like insect pests (creatures I despise). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way imaginable. The sight of their multiple limbs carrying them at that frightening pace triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they move.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – perhaps even more so. My experience has shown that employing the techniques of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and run away when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has begun to yield results.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that move hastily with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and motivated by baseless terror. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years within this old dog yet.