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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to transform. I think you truly can instruct a veteran learner, provided that the experienced individual is willing and eager for knowledge. As long as the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and work to become a improved version.

OK yes, the metaphor applies to me. And the trick I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, a feat I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my whole existence. I have been trying … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. This includes a trio of instances in the last week. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head and grimacing as I type.

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

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the same room 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 lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it chased me), and discharging a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I produced whimpers of distress and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to ignore its presence before I had to enter again.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the sill, primarily stationary. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a girlie, one of us, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it had an impact (to some degree). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they consume 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 move like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way possible. The appearance of their many legs carrying them at that frightening pace causes my ancient psyche to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I maintain that multiplies when they are in motion.

Yet it isn’t their fault that they have unnerving limbs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and retreat when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and intentionally reflecting about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” level, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains for this veteran of life yet.