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I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to transform. My view is you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the old dog is open-minded and willing to learn. As long as the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and work to become a better dog.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an important one, an issue I have struggled with, often, for my entire life. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. This includes three times in the recent past. Inside my home. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least becoming Normal about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to guarantee I never had to handle any personally, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory 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 “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (lest it pursued me), and discharging a significant portion of pesticide toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made low keening sounds and ran away. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to enter again.

Recently, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the window frame, mostly just hanging out. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Or, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic proved successful.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I recognize they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way imaginable. The sight of their numerous appendages propelling them at that terrible speed induces my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They are said to only have eight legs, but I am convinced that triples when they get going.

However it isn’t their fault that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. My experience has shown 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 composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that move hastily with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and driven by baseless terror. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” level, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains left in this veteran of life yet.