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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I believe you can in fact train a seasoned creature, provided that the experienced individual is receptive and eager for knowledge. As long as the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a improved version.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am trying to learn, although I am set in my ways? It is an important one, something I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be grounded about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I run into regularly. Including three times in the recent past. In my own living space. Though unseen, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” 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 guarantee I never had to confront any directly, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “handled” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (lest it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, by default, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I produced whimpers of distress and ran away. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the window frame, primarily lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a girlie, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (to some degree). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become more fearless worked.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they consume things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They travel in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their numerous appendages carrying them at that frightening pace induces my ancient psyche to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have eight legs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they get going.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that taking the steps of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are hairy creatures that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” phase, but miracles happen. There’s a few years left in this veteran of life yet.