🔗 Share this article Here's an Tiny Anxiety I Hope to Conquer. Fandom is Out of Reach, but Is it Possible to at the Very Least Be Calm Regarding Spiders? I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to change. I believe you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the mature being is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and endeavor to transform into a better dog. Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have battled against, repeatedly, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures 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, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the last week. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought 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 dating back to my youth (unlike other children who adore them). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to handle any myself, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the general area 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 made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “dealt” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it chased me), and emptying half a bottle of pesticide toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house. With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to return. Not long ago, I visited a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who made its home in the window frame, mostly just hanging out. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, one of us, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem quite foolish, but it was effective (a little bit). Or, making a conscious choice to become less scared proved successful. Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I recognize they eat things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, benign creatures. Alas, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and almost unjust way conceivable. The vision of their many legs carrying them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I maintain that multiplies when they move. But it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege 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 retreat when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective. The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that scuttle about extremely quickly in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by baseless terror. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the “catching one in a Tupperware container and taking it outside” level, but miracles happen. There’s a few years within this veteran of life yet.