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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. My view is you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and willing to learn. So long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a improved version.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an important one, a feat I have struggled with, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to grow less fearful of those large arachnids. Pardon me, all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. 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 doubt I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who are fascinated by them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the general area as me. Vividly, I recall 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 “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (for fear that it ran after me), and spraying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or living with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore tasked with dealing with it, while I produced frightened noises and fled the scene. When finding myself alone, my tactic was simply to exit the space, turn off the light and try to ignore its existence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the window frame, primarily hanging out. To be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. This may seem rather silly, but it worked (somewhat). Or, the deliberate resolution to become less scared worked.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed causes my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I maintain that multiplies when they are in motion.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that taking the steps of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that dart around with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” phase, but one can't be sure. Some life is left for this veteran of life yet.