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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to change. I believe you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the mature being is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is ready to confess when it was wrong, and strive to be a improved version.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an significant challenge, a feat I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Apologies to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing a trio of instances in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I’ve been working on at least becoming Normal about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to engage with any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the general area as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (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, whoever I was dating or living with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for dealing with it, while I produced low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its presence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the window frame, for the most part stationary. As a means to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, one of us, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (a little bit). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less phobic worked.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they consume things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). I am cognizant they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way conceivable. The appearance of their multiple limbs propelling them at that alarming velocity causes my caveman brain 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.

Yet it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and motivated by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains left in this veteran of life yet.