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I maintain the conviction that it is forever an option to transform. My view is you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, provided that the experienced individual is receptive and eager for knowledge. As long as the old dog is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

OK yes, I am the old dog. And the skill I am working to acquire, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, an issue I have battled against, frequently, for my entire life. I have been trying … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing three times in the last week. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I’ve been working on at least attaining a baseline of normalcy about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders dating back to my youth (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to make sure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (lest it ran after me), and spraying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I produced whimpers of distress and ran away. If I was on my own, my method was simply to vacate the area, douse the illumination and try to ignore its presence before I had to enter again.

In a recent episode, I was a guest at a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the window frame, primarily lingering. As a means to be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, in our circle, just chilling in the sun and overhearing us gab. It sounds extremely dumb, but it had an impact (a little bit). Or, the deliberate resolution to become more fearless worked.

Be that as it may, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they consume things like insect pests (the bane of my existence). I am cognizant they are one of the planet's marvelous, benign creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The sight of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity triggers my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that increases exponentially when they get going.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I’ve found that taking the steps of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and deliberately thinking about their beneficial attributes, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are furry beings that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and driven by baseless terror. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it to the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. Some life is left within this veteran of life yet.