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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I think you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the old dog is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, something I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least attaining a standard level of composure about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders since I was a child (in contrast to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “managed” 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 pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced low keening sounds and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to leave the room, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to re-enter.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the sill, primarily hanging out. As a means to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, one of us, just lounging in the sun and listening to us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it was effective (a little bit). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic proved successful.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they eat things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, benign creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way imaginable. The appearance of their numerous appendages carrying them at that frightening pace triggers my primordial instincts to kick into overdrive. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I maintain that multiplies when they are in motion.

Yet it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that employing the techniques of trying not to immediately exit my own skin and run away when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated 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. There’s a few years left in this seasoned learner yet.