Here's an Tiny Anxiety I Want to Defeat. I Will Never Be a Fan, but Can I at Least Be Normal Concerning Spiders?

I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to evolve. My view is you truly can train a seasoned creature, as long as the experienced individual is receptive and ready for growth. So long as the person is ready to confess when it was in error, and strive to be a better dog.

Well, admittedly, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, an issue I have struggled with, repeatedly, for my all my days. I have been trying … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Pardon me, all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is sizeable, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the recent past. In my own living space. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” 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 (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to engage with any myself, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the same room as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “dealt” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it chased me), and spraying a generous amount of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, by default, the most courageous of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore responsible for dealing with it, while I produced whimpers of distress and ran away. When finding myself alone, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to ignore its presence before I had to enter again.

Not long ago, I stayed at a companion's home where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the window frame, mostly just hanging out. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a her, a gal, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. It sounds rather silly, but it worked (a little bit). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less phobic did the trick.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they eat things like insect pests (the bane of my existence). I am cognizant they are one of the world's exquisite, benign creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to move like that. They move in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way possible. The vision of their numerous appendages propelling them at that frightening pace induces my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They are said to only have eight legs, but I am convinced that triples when they move.

However 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 employing the techniques of making an effort to avoid have a visceral panic reaction and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.

Just because they are hairy creatures that dart around at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. I can admit when my reactions have been misguided and driven by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years within this veteran of life yet.