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I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to transform. I believe you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, provided that the experienced individual is receptive and willing to learn. As long as the person is ready to confess when it was wrong, and strive to be a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an important one, something I have battled against, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least becoming Normal about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders dating back to my youth (unlike other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still panicked 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 facing the ordeal of a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it pursued me), and emptying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or cohabiting with was, automatically, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made frightened noises and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its existence before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the window frame, for the most part lingering. As a means to be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a her, a one of the girls, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem rather silly, but it was effective (somewhat). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless proved successful.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they eat things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, benign creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed causes my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that multiplies when they get going.

However it is no fault of their own that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, attempting to stay calm and collected, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that move hastily with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and relocating it outdoors” stage, but you never know. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.