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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I believe you absolutely are able to train a seasoned creature, as long as the experienced individual is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the person is willing to admit when it was wrong, and strive to be a improved version.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am trying to learn, although I am decrepit? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, frequently, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. This includes three times in the previous seven days. Inside my home. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (unlike other children who are fascinated by them). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and trying to deal with a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, almost into the next room (in case it pursued me), and emptying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I emitted low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the window frame, mostly just stationary. To be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a gal, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us yap. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they consume things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, harmless-to-humans 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 transporting them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that taking the steps of trying not to immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but you never know. A bit of time remains for this old dog yet.