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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to evolve. I think you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, as long as the experienced individual is open-minded and ready for growth. Provided that the person is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am working to acquire, although I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, an issue I have battled against, repeatedly, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes a trio of instances in the recent past. Inside my home. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who are fascinated by them). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still panicked if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity 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 made its way onto the living room surface. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it pursued me), and spraying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, automatically, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I produced frightened noises and ran away. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the casement, for the most part hanging out. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, one of us, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, actively deciding to become more fearless worked.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, benign creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way conceivable. The vision of their many legs propelling them at that alarming velocity induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that triples when they move.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that employing the techniques of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and consciously focusing about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” phase, but one can't be sure. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.