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I am someone who believes that it is forever an option to evolve. I believe you truly can teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the old dog is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the trick I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, something I have grappled with, often, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to grow less fearful of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I run into regularly. This includes a trio of instances in the previous seven days. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least attaining 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). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to make sure I never had to confront any personally, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “dealt” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it pursued me), and emptying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, by default, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made frightened noises and ran away. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

Not long ago, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the casement, primarily lingering. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a gal, part of the group, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem rather silly, but it worked (a little bit). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less scared proved successful.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the most terrifying and almost unjust way possible. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that terrible speed causes my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They claim to only have eight legs, but I maintain that increases exponentially when they get going.

But it isn’t their fault 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 immediately exit my own skin and flee when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years for this old dog yet.