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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to transform. I believe you can in fact instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the old dog is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and strive to be a improved version.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, an issue I have struggled with, frequently, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. Including on three separate occasions in the recent past. In my own living space. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least attaining a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any myself, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it chased me), and emptying a generous amount of pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore responsible for dealing with it, while I made frightened noises and ran away. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to forget about its being before I had to return.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the sill, primarily stationary. To be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a gal, one of us, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us yap. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (to some degree). Put another way, actively deciding to become more fearless did the trick.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I reflect upon all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The appearance of their multiple limbs carrying them at that alarming velocity causes my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

Yet it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of making an effort to avoid immediately exit my own skin and flee when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by baseless terror. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” level, but you never know. A bit of time remains within this old dog yet.