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I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to change. My view is you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, as long as the experienced individual is willing and ready for growth. So long as the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and strive to be a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am working to acquire, although I am set in my ways? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my all my days. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of those large arachnids. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Encompassing three times in the recent past. Inside my home. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing at the very thought as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I’ve been working on at least attaining a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to handle any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (in case it ran after me), and emptying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or living with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made whimpers of distress and ran away. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to forget about its presence before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the casement, for the most part lingering. To be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a her, a one of the girls, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and overhearing us chat. It sounds extremely dumb, but it worked (a little bit). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless proved successful.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they consume things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They travel in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The sight of their many legs carrying them at that alarming velocity triggers my ancient psyche to enter panic mode. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they get going.

But it is no fault of their own 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 trying not to instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that dart around extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years for this seasoned learner yet.