There's an Itsy-Bitsy Fear I Aim to Overcome. I Will Never Be a Fan, but Is it Possible to at the Very Least Be Calm Concerning Spiders?

I am someone who believes that it is never too late to evolve. I believe you can in fact train a seasoned creature, as long as the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. So long as the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am decrepit? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I run into regularly. Including three times in the last week. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving a standard level of composure about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to handle any myself, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the immediate vicinity 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 lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (in case it chased me), and spraying half a bottle of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

As I got older, 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 whimpers of distress and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my method was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the sill, mostly just lingering. As a means to be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a girlie, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it worked (a little bit). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic proved successful.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the most terrifying and somehow offensive way possible. The sight of their numerous appendages transporting them at that alarming velocity triggers my ancient psyche to enter panic mode. They are said to 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 just as much right 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 retreat when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that dart around extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever make it to the “catching one in a Tupperware container and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. Some life is left for this seasoned learner yet.