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I firmly hold the belief that it is never too late to evolve. I think you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the old dog is willing and willing to learn. So long as the old dog is ready to confess when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, something I have grappled with, frequently, for my whole existence. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of those large arachnids. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. This includes on three separate occasions in the recent past. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any myself, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and trying to deal with a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it pursued me), and spraying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, automatically, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and ran away. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to forget about its being before I had to return.

Not long ago, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the sill, mostly just lingering. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, one of us, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. It sounds quite foolish, but it had an impact (somewhat). Or, making a conscious choice to become less phobic did the trick.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I know they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way imaginable. The vision of their multiple limbs carrying them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they get going.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. My experience has shown that taking the steps of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by baseless terror. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains for this veteran of life yet.