🔗 Share this article

I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. My view is you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. As long as the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and work to become a better dog.

Well, admittedly, I am the old dog. And the skill I am working to acquire, although I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have struggled with, frequently, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including on three separate occasions in the last week. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who are fascinated by them). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the same room 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 made its way onto the living room surface. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, almost into the next room (for fear that it ran after me), and emptying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and annoy everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whomever I was in a relationship with or living with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to exit the space, turn off the light and try to ignore its presence before I had to return.

Recently, I visited a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the casement, for the most part hanging out. In order to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a one of the girls, one of us, just chilling in the sun and listening to us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (to some degree). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less phobic did the trick.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they eat things like insect pests (the bane of my existence). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the most terrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The sight of their many legs transporting them at that frightening pace causes my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They claim 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 unnerving limbs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – if not more. My experience has shown that taking the steps of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and flee when I see one, working to keep calm and collected, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when I’ve been wrong and motivated by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” stage, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this seasoned learner yet.