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I am someone who believes that it is never too late to evolve. My view is you truly can instruct a veteran learner, as long as the mature being is open-minded and eager for knowledge. Provided that the individual in question is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am working to acquire, although I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. My ongoing effort … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the other spiders 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 encounter most often. This includes a trio of instances in the recent past. In my own living space. 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 “enthusiast” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to confront any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and trying to deal with a spider that had made its way onto the family room partition. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it chased me), and emptying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made low keening sounds and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to ignore its being before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the sill, mostly just lingering. In order to be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, one of us, just lounging in the sun and listening to us gab. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it worked (a little bit). Or, actively deciding to become less phobic did the trick.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The vision of their numerous appendages transporting them at that terrible speed causes my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I maintain that multiplies when they move.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that employing the techniques of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, 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 fueled by unfounded fear. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to 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.