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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to change. My view is you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, provided that the old dog is receptive and eager for knowledge. So long as the person is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an significant challenge, a feat I have struggled with, frequently, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Including a trio of instances in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me at the very thought as I type.

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

I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who are fascinated by them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to engage with any directly, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the general area 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 crawled on to the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by retreating to a remote corner, practically in the adjoining space (for fear that it ran after me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, by default, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made low keening sounds and ran away. When finding myself alone, my tactic was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to return.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the sill, primarily lingering. In order to be less fearful, I envisioned the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, one of us, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (somewhat). Or, actively deciding to become less phobic proved successful.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of the world's exquisite, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The vision of their many legs carrying them at that alarming velocity causes my ancient psyche to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I believe that triples when they get going.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I have discovered that taking the steps of trying not to have a visceral panic reaction and run away when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.

Simply due to the reality that they are fuzzy entities that dart around extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when my reactions have been misguided and fueled by irrational anxiety. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” phase, but miracles happen. Some life is left for this veteran of life yet.