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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to change. I think you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the mature being is receptive and eager for knowledge. So long as the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the lesson I am working to acquire, even though I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, something I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of the common huntsman. My regrets to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes a trio of instances in the recent past. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

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

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to confront any directly, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the family room partition. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, practically in the adjoining space (lest it ran after me), and discharging a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, by default, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I produced frightened noises and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the window frame, primarily stationary. As a means to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, part of the group, just chilling in the sun and listening to us chat. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it had an impact (to some degree). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless worked.

Be that as it may, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (creatures I despise). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their many legs transporting them at that terrible speed triggers my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I am convinced that multiplies when they move.

But it isn’t their fault that they have unnerving limbs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – perhaps even more so. My experience has shown that taking the steps of trying not to have a visceral panic reaction and run away when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has actually started to help.

Just because they are hairy creatures that dart around extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” stage, but miracles happen. There’s a few years for this seasoned learner yet.