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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to change. I think you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the mature being is willing and ready for growth. As long as the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and strive to be a better dog.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am working to acquire, even though I am set in my ways? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the last week. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least attaining a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (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 engage with any directly, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “dealt” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it ran after me), and discharging a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and annoy everyone in my house.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for handling the situation, while I made frightened noises and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to vacate the area, douse the illumination and try to forget about its existence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the window frame, mostly just stationary. As a means to be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a girlie, one of us, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. This may seem extremely dumb, but it had an impact (to some degree). Or, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless proved successful.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the most terrifying and almost unjust way possible. The appearance of their many legs transporting them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I maintain that increases exponentially when they move.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that taking the steps of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that move hastily extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, does not justify they deserve my hatred, or my girly screams. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “scooping one into plasticware and taking it outside” stage, but miracles happen. There’s a few years within this veteran of life yet.