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I am someone who believes that it is forever an option to change. My view is you truly can instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and strive to be a better dog.

Well, admittedly, I am the old dog. And the trick I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, an issue I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to become less scared of those large arachnids. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing a trio of instances in the last week. Inside my home. Though unseen, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I’ve been working on at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (unlike other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to confront any directly, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it pursued me), and discharging a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or cohabiting with was, automatically, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced low keening sounds and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to leave the room, 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 notably big huntsman who made its home in the window frame, for the most part hanging out. To be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it worked (to some degree). Or, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless worked.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I reflect upon all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They travel in the most terrifying and almost unjust way conceivable. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed causes my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

However it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that dart around with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” stage, but miracles happen. There’s a few years within this veteran of life yet.