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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to change. I believe you can in fact instruct a veteran learner, as long as the experienced individual is open-minded and eager for knowledge. Provided that the individual in question is ready to confess when it was in error, and strive to be a improved version.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the lesson I am working to acquire, although I am set in my ways? It is an important one, something I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes three times in the recent past. In my own living space. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

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

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (unlike other children who are fascinated by them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had crawled on to the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it ran after me), and spraying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or cohabiting with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to ignore its existence before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the sill, primarily hanging out. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and listening to us yap. It sounds extremely dumb, but it had an impact (a little bit). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become less phobic worked.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way possible. The vision of their many legs transporting them at that terrible speed induces my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I maintain that triples when they are in motion.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and run away when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that dart around at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and fueled by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.