Here's an Tiny Anxiety I Hope to Defeat. I Will Never Be a Fan, but Can I at the Very Least Be Normal Regarding Spiders?

I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. I believe you truly can train a seasoned creature, as long as the mature being is open-minded and ready for growth. So long as the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a better dog.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my entire life. My ongoing effort … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is imposing, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. This includes on three separate occasions in the recent past. In my own living space. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I’ve been working on at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who are fascinated by them). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers 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. Vividly, I recall 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 “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it ran after me), and spraying a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I made frightened noises and fled the scene. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to forget about its being before I had to enter again.

Recently, I visited a companion's home where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the window frame, primarily lingering. In order to be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, one of us, just chilling in the sun and listening to us gab. This may seem quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become more fearless proved successful.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I recognize they prey upon things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of the planet's marvelous, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way conceivable. The vision of their multiple limbs carrying 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 move.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and flee when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are fuzzy entities that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my shrieks of terror. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by irrational anxiety. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains left in this veteran of life yet.