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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to evolve. I believe you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and ready for growth. Provided that the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a improved version.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an important one, a feat I have struggled with, often, 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 grounded about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I encounter most often. Including three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least attaining a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (as opposed to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out 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 facing the ordeal of a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it chased me), and discharging 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.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I emitted whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my method was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to forget about its presence before I had to enter again.

Not long ago, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the window frame, for the most part stationary. In order to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a one of the girls, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us yap. It sounds quite foolish, but it had an impact (somewhat). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become more fearless worked.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. I am aware 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 planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They move in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way possible. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that frightening pace triggers my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that increases exponentially when they move.

However it isn’t their fault that they have unnerving limbs, and they have just as much right 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, trying to remain calm and collected, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that move hastily extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” phase, but one can't be sure. Some life is left within this veteran of life yet.