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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I think you truly can train a seasoned creature, provided that the experienced individual is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the lesson I am working to acquire, even though I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have struggled with, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I encounter most often. This includes on three separate occasions in the last week. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving Normal about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (in contrast to other children who adore them). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “dealt” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it chased me), and spraying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with managing the intruder, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to forget about its being before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I visited a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the sill, for the most part lingering. To be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, one of us, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. It sounds quite foolish, but it had an impact (somewhat). Or, making a conscious choice to become more fearless worked.

Whatever the case, I’ve tried to keep it up. I reflect upon all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they consume things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The vision of their numerous appendages propelling them at that terrible speed triggers my primordial instincts to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I am convinced that multiplies when they get going.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that taking the steps of making an effort to avoid immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, doesn’t mean they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by baseless terror. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” level, but one can't be sure. Some life is left for this seasoned learner yet.