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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to change. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the mature being is open-minded and willing to learn. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the trick I am working to acquire, although I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have struggled with, frequently, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes on three separate occasions in the recent past. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

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

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who are fascinated by them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to handle any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the same room as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “dealt” with it by retreating to a remote corner, almost into the next room (lest it chased me), and discharging a generous amount of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

As I got older, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, as a matter of course, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I produced low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to ignore its presence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the sill, mostly just lingering. To be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a girlie, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us gab. This may seem extremely dumb, but it was effective (somewhat). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless worked.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I recognize they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the deeply alarming and almost unjust way possible. The sight of their many legs propelling them at that frightening pace causes my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they get going.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and run away when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my shrieks of terror. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and motivated by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” stage, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains left in this old dog yet.