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I am someone who believes that it is never too late to change. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, provided that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am attempting to master, although I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my whole existence. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. This includes on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. In my own living space. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any directly, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (lest it pursued me), and discharging a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

As I got older, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, by default, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of managing the intruder, while I emitted frightened noises and ran away. In moments of solitude, my strategy was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to ignore its presence before I had to enter again.

Recently, I visited a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who lived in the casement, mostly just lingering. To be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a her, a gal, one of us, just lounging in the sun and listening to us gab. This may seem extremely dumb, but it was effective (a little bit). Or, actively deciding to become less scared proved successful.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I understand they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way possible. The appearance of their many legs carrying them at that alarming velocity causes my ancient psyche to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I maintain that triples when they move.

However it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. My experience has shown that employing the techniques of trying not to immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and consciously focusing about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are furry beings that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, doesn’t mean they deserve my hatred, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when my reactions have been misguided and driven by baseless terror. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but miracles happen. Some life is left within this seasoned learner yet.