Here's an Itsy-Bitsy Anxiety I Hope to Conquer. I Will Never Be a Fan, but Can I at the Very Least Be Calm About Spiders?

I maintain the conviction that it is never too late to transform. I think you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, provided that the old dog is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is willing to admit when it was wrong, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Well, admittedly, I am the old dog. And the skill I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my all my days. I have been trying … to become less scared of those large arachnids. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Including a trio of instances in the previous seven days. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least achieving a standard level of composure about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (as opposed to other children who find them delightful). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still panicked if one was visibly 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 crawled on to the living room surface. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (lest it ran after me), and emptying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and annoy everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of managing the intruder, while I produced frightened noises and fled the scene. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to forget about its existence before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I visited a companion's home where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the sill, primarily stationary. As a means to be less fearful, I envisioned the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, part of the group, just chilling in the sun and overhearing us gab. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it was effective (a little bit). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become less scared did the trick.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I know 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 walk like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The appearance of their many legs propelling them at that terrible speed induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that multiplies when they move.

Yet it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their good points, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that dart around extremely quickly in a way that haunts my sleep, does not justify they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and driven by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but you never know. Some life is left for this veteran of life yet.