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I am someone who believes that it is always possible to evolve. My view is you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, as long as the old dog is receptive and willing to learn. So long as the individual in question is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, something I have struggled with, frequently, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (unlike other children who find them delightful). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any personally, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore tasked with managing the intruder, while I made whimpers of distress and ran away. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the casement, primarily hanging out. In order to be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a girlie, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and listening to us chat. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less scared did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and somehow offensive way possible. The appearance of their many legs carrying them at that terrible speed induces my ancient psyche to enter panic mode. They claim to only have eight legs, but I maintain that triples when they move.

But 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 have discovered that taking the steps of trying not to immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and escorting it to the garden” phase, but one can't be sure. Some life is left for this seasoned learner yet.