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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to change. I believe you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the experienced individual is willing and eager for knowledge. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was in error, and work to become a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the trick I am attempting to master, although I am decrepit? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, frequently, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving Normal about them.

I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to handle any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was obviously in the general area as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (in case it chased me), and discharging half a bottle of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made whimpers of distress and ran away. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the window frame, for the most part hanging out. In order to be less scared of it, I envisioned the spider as a her, a gal, one of us, just chilling in the sun and overhearing us gab. This may seem quite foolish, but it had an impact (to some degree). Or, the deliberate resolution to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they consume things like insect pests (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way imaginable. The appearance of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed causes my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that multiplies when they move.

But it isn’t their fault that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I have discovered that implementing the strategy of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and flee when I see one, trying to remain still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that dart around extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and fueled by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” stage, but one can't be sure. Some life is left within this old dog yet.