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I am someone who believes that it is forever an option to transform. My view is you can in fact train a seasoned creature, as long as the mature being is open-minded and ready for growth. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, something I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming Normal about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to make sure I never had to handle any myself, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (lest it chased me), and discharging a generous amount of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed 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, by default, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I emitted low keening sounds and fled the scene. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to exit the space, turn off the light and try to forget about its presence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the sill, primarily lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, one of us, just chilling in the sun and listening to us yap. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become less phobic proved successful.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that frightening pace causes my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I maintain that multiplies when they move.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that employing the techniques of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are hairy creatures that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and fueled by baseless terror. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but you never know. There’s a few years left in this veteran of life yet.