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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to change. I think you can in fact train a seasoned creature, as long as the experienced individual is receptive and eager for knowledge. As long as the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and strive to be a improved version.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, something I have battled against, repeatedly, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my possible growth as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Including on three separate occasions in the last week. In my own living space. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least achieving Normal about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to guarantee I never had to confront any myself, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory 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 living room surface. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (for fear that it pursued me), and emptying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for dealing with it, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its existence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I visited a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the window frame, mostly just lingering. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and listening to us chat. It sounds rather silly, but it worked (somewhat). Or, the deliberate resolution to become less scared worked.

Regardless, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way possible. The vision of their many legs propelling them at that frightening pace triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they move.

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 employing the techniques of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that dart around with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” phase, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this old dog yet.