Here's an Minuscule Anxiety I Hope to Overcome. I Will Never Be a Fan, but Is it Possible to at Least Be Reasonable About Spiders?

I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. I think you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the old dog is open-minded and ready for growth. As long as the old dog is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a better dog.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the skill I am working to acquire, even though I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, something I have battled against, repeatedly, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is sizeable, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Including three times in the last week. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

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

An intense phobia regarding spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who adore them). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to confront any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and trying to deal with a spider that had ascended the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, by default, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I emitted low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, douse the illumination and try to forget about its existence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the casement, mostly just hanging out. To be less scared of it, I envisioned the spider as a female entity, a girlie, one of us, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it was effective (to some degree). Or, actively deciding to become less scared worked.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, benign creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their many legs carrying them at that alarming velocity induces my caveman brain to enter panic mode. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they get going.

But it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when I’ve been wrong and motivated by baseless terror. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and taking it outside” stage, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years within this seasoned learner yet.