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I am someone who believes that it is forever an option to evolve. My view is you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and willing to learn. As long as the old dog is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a improved version.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am set in my ways? It is an important one, a feat I have struggled with, often, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. My regrets to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing three times in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least becoming Normal about them.

I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who are fascinated by them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to handle any personally, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had ascended the living room surface. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it pursued me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made whimpers of distress and ran away. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to ignore its existence before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the casement, for the most part stationary. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and listening to us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (a little bit). Or, actively deciding to become less phobic proved successful.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they consume things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way conceivable. The appearance of their many legs carrying them at that frightening pace triggers my ancient psyche to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I maintain that multiplies when they move.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that implementing the strategy of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, trying to remain still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

Just because they are furry beings that dart around with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, does not justify they deserve my hatred, or my girly screams. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and driven by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and taking it outside” stage, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years left in this seasoned learner yet.