There's an Itsy-Bitsy Fear I Want to Conquer. Fandom is Out of Reach, but Is it Possible to at Least Be Reasonable Concerning Spiders?
I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to evolve. I believe you absolutely are able to teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the mature being is receptive and eager for knowledge. Provided that the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was wrong, and strive to be a improved version.
Well, admittedly, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am trying to learn, although I am a creature of habit? It is an major undertaking, an issue I have battled against, frequently, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to become less scared of those large arachnids. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.
It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least attaining Normal about them.
I have been terrified of spiders from my earliest years (as opposed to other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to make sure I never had to engage with any personally, but I still freaked out if one was visibly in the same room as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, almost into the next room (lest it chased me), and discharging a significant portion of bug repellent toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and irritate everyone in my house.
In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or sharing a home with was, by default, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. If I was on my own, my tactic was simply to leave the room, turn off the light and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.
In a recent episode, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the casement, for the most part stationary. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I imagined the spider as a female entity, a girlie, part of the group, just chilling in the sun and eavesdropping on us chat. This may seem rather silly, but it was effective (somewhat). Or, making a conscious choice to become more fearless proved successful.
Regardless, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I know they eat things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, benign creatures.
Unfortunately, however, they do continue to move like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way conceivable. The sight of their numerous appendages transporting them at that alarming velocity triggers my caveman brain to go into high alert. They claim to only have eight legs, but I am convinced that triples when they move.
But it is no fault of their own that they have scary legs, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of working to prevent immediately exit my own skin and run away when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and consciously focusing about their beneficial attributes, has begun to yield results.
Simply due to the reality that they are hairy creatures that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, does not justify they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and escorting it to the garden” level, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this seasoned learner yet.