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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to change. I think you can in fact instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the mature being is receptive and willing to learn. So long as the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a better dog.

OK yes, I am the old dog. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, something I have struggled with, frequently, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I run into regularly. This includes three times in the last week. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been 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 plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to engage with any personally, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the same room 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 “dealt” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it chased me), and spraying half a bottle of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of managing the intruder, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to return.

Recently, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the casement, mostly just lingering. To be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. This may seem quite foolish, but it was effective (a little bit). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less scared worked.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (creatures I despise). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The vision of their numerous appendages carrying them at that frightening pace triggers my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that triples when they get going.

Yet it isn’t their fault that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and run away when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has begun to yield results.

Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that move hastily with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and motivated by baseless terror. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and escorting it to the garden” stage, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this veteran of life yet.