Here's an Minuscule Anxiety I Aim to Defeat. I'll Never Adore Them, but Can I at Least Be Reasonable About Spiders?

I am someone who believes that it is never too late to change. I believe you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is receptive and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is willing to admit when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the skill I am working to acquire, although I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, something I have struggled with, often, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be grounded about my capacity for development as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the recent past. In my own living space. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

I have been terrified of spiders since I was a child (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 engage with any myself, but I still freaked out if one was clearly in the same room 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 family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, nearly crossing the threshold (lest it pursued me), and emptying half a bottle of bug repellent toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the bravest of spiders in our pairing, and therefore tasked with dealing with it, while I made whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to forget about its existence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I stayed at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who lived in the casement, primarily stationary. As a means to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a female entity, a one of the girls, one of us, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem rather silly, but it had an impact (to some degree). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic worked.

Whatever the case, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I contemplate all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I understand they consume things like insect pests (creatures I despise). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and somehow offensive way imaginable. The sight of their multiple limbs transporting them at that frightening pace causes my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They are said to only have the typical arachnid arrangement, but I believe that multiplies when they are in motion.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I’ve found that taking the steps of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, attempting to stay composed and breathing steadily, and consciously focusing about their good points, has actually started to help.

Just because they are furry beings that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that haunts my sleep, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and taking it outside” level, but one can't be sure. Some life is left left in this veteran of life yet.