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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to transform. I think you truly can train a seasoned creature, provided that the old dog is receptive and eager for knowledge. As long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was wrong, and strive to be a better dog.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am trying to learn, even though I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, a feat I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the last week. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

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

I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to engage with any myself, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and trying to deal with a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it chased me), and discharging a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I emitted frightened noises and ran away. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the window frame, mostly just lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, part of the group, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. It sounds extremely dumb, but it was effective (a little bit). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become less phobic worked.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of the world's exquisite, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The vision of their numerous appendages transporting them at that terrible speed causes my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that multiplies when they are in motion.

But 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. I’ve found that taking the steps of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and run away when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, 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 shrieks of terror. It is possible to acknowledge when my reactions have been misguided and driven by baseless terror. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” phase, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains left in this old dog yet.