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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to change. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, provided that the old dog is willing and ready for growth. As long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the skill I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, an issue I have struggled with, often, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to 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 imposing, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Including three times in the previous seven days. In my own living space. 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 “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least attaining a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). In my formative years, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to confront any personally, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and trying to deal with a spider that had crawled on to the living room surface. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it ran after me), and spraying half a bottle of pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or living with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made whimpers of distress and ran away. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its existence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the casement, primarily hanging out. In order to be less scared of it, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. Admittedly, it appears quite foolish, but it worked (somewhat). Put another way, actively deciding to become less scared worked.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the rational arguments not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I know they consume things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They move in the most terrifying and almost unjust way possible. The sight of their multiple limbs transporting them at that frightening pace induces my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I am convinced that multiplies when they are in motion.

However it is no fault of their own that they have unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has begun to yield results.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that move hastily with startling speed in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” phase, but you never know. A bit of time remains for this old dog yet.