🔗 Share this article

I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to evolve. I believe you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the old dog is willing and eager for knowledge. Provided that the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and strive to be a improved version.

Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an significant challenge, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who are fascinated by them). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to make sure I never had to confront any personally, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage 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 emptying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, as a matter of course, the bravest of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore responsible for handling the situation, while I produced frightened noises and fled the scene. When finding myself alone, my tactic was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its being before I had to re-enter.

In a recent episode, I visited a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who made its home in the sill, for the most part hanging out. To be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a female entity, a girlie, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (to some degree). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become more fearless did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they prey upon things like buzzing nuisances (creatures I despise). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They travel in the most terrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The appearance of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity causes my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They claim to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that multiplies when they get going.

Yet it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that taking the steps of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” stage, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years for this seasoned learner yet.