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I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to change. My view is you absolutely are able to train a seasoned creature, as long as the old dog is receptive and ready for growth. So long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the trick I am working to acquire, although I am set in my ways? It is an significant challenge, something I have battled against, frequently, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of those large arachnids. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes on three separate occasions 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.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming Normal about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to ensure I never had to handle any directly, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “handled” with it by retreating to a remote corner, almost into the next room (in case it pursued me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I produced low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the casement, primarily hanging out. As a means to be less fearful, I envisioned the spider as a her, a gal, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it was effective (to some degree). Or, making a conscious choice 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 am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The appearance of their multiple limbs carrying them at that terrible speed induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that multiplies when they move.

But it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that employing the techniques of trying not to have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains left in this seasoned learner yet.