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I firmly hold the belief that it is never too late to change. I think you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the mature being is willing and willing to learn. As long as the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the lesson I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an significant challenge, an issue I have struggled with, often, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including on three separate occasions in the recent past. Inside my home. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

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

A deep-seated fear of spiders since I was a child (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to make sure I never had to handle any myself, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. Vividly, I recall 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 positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (in case it pursued me), and emptying a significant portion of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I emitted low keening sounds and ran away. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to forget about its existence before I had to enter again.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the casement, for the most part stationary. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a gal, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. It sounds extremely dumb, but it worked (a little bit). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less scared proved successful.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I reflect upon all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they eat things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to move like that. They move in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way conceivable. The sight of their multiple limbs carrying them at that alarming velocity causes my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have eight legs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they are in motion.

But it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that employing the techniques of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are furry beings that dart around at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they deserve my hatred, or my shrieks of terror. It is possible to acknowledge when I’ve been wrong and driven by baseless terror. It is uncertain I’ll ever make it to the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains for this old dog yet.