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I am someone who believes that it is never too late to transform. I think you truly can instruct a veteran learner, as long as the experienced individual is willing and ready for growth. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an significant challenge, something I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … 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 capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes on three separate occasions in the last week. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

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

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to confront any myself, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the general area as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the living room surface. I “dealt” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it pursued me), and emptying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I made whimpers of distress and fled the scene. 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 return.

Not long ago, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the sill, mostly just stationary. To be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and listening to us gab. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it had an impact (somewhat). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less scared worked.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way conceivable. The vision of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed causes my ancient psyche to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that employing the techniques of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, attempting to stay calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has begun to yield results.

Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” phase, but you never know. A bit of time remains for this veteran of life yet.