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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to change. My view is you can in fact train a seasoned creature, as long as the mature being is willing and willing to learn. As long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was wrong, and work to become a improved version.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the skill I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an significant challenge, a feat I have grappled with, frequently, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the other spiders 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 run into regularly. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. Inside my home. Though unseen, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (unlike other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to handle any myself, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “handled” with it by retreating to a remote corner, 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 annoy everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or living with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I emitted whimpers of distress and ran away. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to re-enter.

In a recent episode, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the window frame, primarily stationary. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a gal, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it had an impact (to some degree). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic worked.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I recognize they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed induces my primordial instincts to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have eight legs, but I believe that multiplies when they are in motion.

However it is no fault of their own 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 making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay calm and collected, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and motivated by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” level, but you never know. A bit of time remains within this old dog yet.