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I firmly hold the belief that it is forever an option to change. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is open-minded and willing to learn. As long as the old dog is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

OK yes, I am the old dog. And the lesson I am working to acquire, although I am decrepit? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. Including on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. Inside my home. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least achieving a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the living room surface. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it chased me), and spraying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I emitted low keening sounds and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the window frame, primarily hanging out. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and listening to us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it was effective (a little bit). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless proved successful.

Regardless, 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 understand they consume things like insect pests (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to walk like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The sight of their numerous appendages transporting them at that frightening pace induces my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they move.

However it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. My experience has shown that taking the steps of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has begun to yield results.

Simply due to the reality that they are fuzzy entities that dart around extremely quickly in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” stage, but you never know. A bit of time remains left in this old dog yet.