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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I think you absolutely are able to train a seasoned creature, provided that the experienced individual is open-minded and willing to learn. As long as the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and strive to be a more enlightened self.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, something I have battled against, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the last week. Inside my home. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (unlike other children who adore them). Growing up, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to guarantee I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the general area as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “dealt” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it ran after me), and emptying half a bottle of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for handling the situation, while I emitted low keening sounds and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the casement, mostly just stationary. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us yap. It sounds extremely dumb, but it was effective (somewhat). Or, making a conscious choice to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they consume things like buzzing nuisances (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity triggers my caveman brain to go into high alert. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

Yet it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that taking the steps of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, attempting to stay calm and collected, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are hairy creatures that dart around at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and driven by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” stage, but miracles happen. There’s a few years left in this old dog yet.