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I am someone who believes that it is forever an option to change. I think you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the old dog is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was wrong, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the trick I am trying to learn, even though I am decrepit? It is an important one, a feat I have battled against, often, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the recent past. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders dating back to my youth (as opposed to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to confront any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it ran after me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made low keening sounds and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the sill, mostly just stationary. In order to be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and overhearing us chat. This may seem rather silly, but it had an impact (a little bit). Or, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless worked.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they consume things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their many legs propelling them at that frightening pace induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they are in motion.

However it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that employing the techniques of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and flee when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and driven by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” phase, but you never know. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.