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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. I think you truly can instruct a veteran learner, as long as the old dog is willing and ready for growth. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and work to become a improved version.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the lesson I am attempting to master, although I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, something I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. This includes on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

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

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “handled” with it by standing incredibly far away, almost into the next room (for fear that it chased me), and spraying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced frightened noises and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my tactic was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to ignore its presence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the window frame, for the most part stationary. As a means to be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a her, a one of the girls, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and listening to us gab. It sounds extremely dumb, but it worked (somewhat). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less phobic worked.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). I am cognizant they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and run away when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that dart around with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” level, but you never know. A bit of time remains within this old dog yet.