I am arachnaphobic. Badly so. Never mind real spiders, I get freaked out by photos, film footage and even realistic drawings of the monstrous little bastards.
A couple of weeks ago I noticed a story in my local paper. London Zoo runs nine discussion/hypnotherapy group sessions a year, and one happened to be this weekend. Feeling financially foolish, I booked a place. I don’t like having to decide between “fight or flight” just because of a harmless fly hoover, so it felt like a positive step.
I got back half an hour ago, and it worked! Well, mostly. I still dislike spiders, and they still give me the jitters, but I know have a Polaroid of a semi-terrified me holding a red-kneed bird-earing spider, and the very fact that I managed that without keeling over, crushing it underfoot or otherwise making an arse out of myself is a slightly proud moment.
I know there are some arachnaphiles on the Boards who will probably just smile at this, but for anyone else who was as paralytically scared as me it’s a minor victory! I can recommend a similar course of action to anyone - it’s not guaranteed but it seemed to help me a lot.
My local university gives free arachnophopia-treatments. What they will not tell you in advance, but only afterward, it that it is an ethically OK way to study human fear.
I enrolled, because I thought it would be the psychological equivalent of bungeejumping. And it was.
I was brought to a room, and then a little spider in a jar was brought in. If I could stand to hold the jar, they would let the spider walk in a plastic basin. I had look at it running around, then touch it with a pencil, then touch it with my hand. Then take it out.
The examiner was very quiet and supportive, and let me take my time with every step.
Then a bigger spider was brought in. Same procedure.
Then the same procedure with a big fat diadem spider. Then with a big brown running spider (one of those, that cover the palm of a mans hand with their legs ). I even managed to let that last citter run om my naked arm.
Two weeks later they repeated the whole procedure and I got used to every spider much faster.
I’d say it reduced my fear of spiders with a permanent 30%. I still scare when I see a big one, but I can take a deep breath now and remove it myself, if I have to.
So, like Crusoe, I can recommend it! It can be done at home as well. All you need is a experiment leader who knows her psychology, and a few jars with spiders.
Was it a Mexican red kneed (orange really) tarantula? Usually the huge bluish black ones are considered the bird eaters and notably ill-tempered. The red (orange) knee/leg will usually throw hairs and run before fighting.
Those red legs will plow through some crickets if you let them. I had a very LARGE one when I was in middle school. Her abdomen was the size of an Eisenhower dollar. Just don’t emulate pespis wasp sounds. Then things can turn ugly.
FWIW, I actually lifted my tarantula as little as possible. They can go splat if they fall.
I can remove spiders from the house with a paper towel or three. The big wolf spiders that get in occasionally require a broom or newspaper and nerves of steel. They’ll turn on you. shudder
Spiders are fascinating to me. I like to look at them. But I’d prefer not having them crawl on me. If it’s one of those little furry garden spiders, I don’t mind so much. But one day I was hosing our a diving bootie in preparation for a trip, and a black widow crawled out onto my hand. She didn’t live very long. My dad was bitten by a black widow once, and it left a nasty ulcerated wound.
If I find a spider in my flat, I’ll catch it and release it outside. Once I had a tiny little spider that lived under the trim at the bottom of the wall. Ants had found their way into my bathroom. Not very many, but I’d see a few milling about. An ant would crawl along the floor near the trim, and suddenly the little spider would hop out, run around it twice, and go back under the trim. The ant would stop moving. Neat! After then ants were gone, the spider was gone as well. Nice little friend, though.
I especially like those furry jumping spiders. They’re so cute! The way they turn around quickly to gaze about with their eight eyes makes me laugh.
I don’t much like being surprised by spiders, though. If I can see it coming, it’s one thing. But running into a web that I didn’t see creeps me out.
Oh yes, you mean those tiny black&white striped ones? That move so funny, a little jerky? Live on rough walls? You’re right, those are downright CUTE. I always do the finger thing too, and see them watch me carefully.
Well, the programme today wasn’t quite as “confrontational” as Maastricht’s! It’s designed for real, diehard arachnaphobes; they mentioned having people in the group before who pass out on hearing the word ‘spider’, or a guy who when confronted with a spider would reach for his air rifle.
Very considerate it was too; they even put up warning notices in the Zoological Society offices, telling you not to read the leaflets since they had pictures of spiders. The head zookeeper responsible for their insect exhibits personally checks the lecture theatre for spiders beforehand; they really take it that seriously, which is a nice touch.
It was basically a group discussion of phobias, then a Q&A session on spiders generally, then a group hypnotherapy session (but entirely conscious the whole way through; I was convinced it wasn’t working since I didn’t feel that relaxed, although some other chap’s snoring through it didn’t help). After the hypnotherapy – which didn’t make me feel any better – it was a walk over to the main spider exhibit in the main zoo (after closing hours). Look at them behind glass (I was still terrified, but they said that it doesn’t always ‘click’ immediately).
The nice practical touch was that they had a number of large-ish UK house spiders in clear plastic boxes. You started off by getting used to holding the boxes, then the end of the boxes where the spider was, then they would release a spider onto a table and you had to catch it in a clear plastic container, slide card underneath and pretend to be throwing it out. The course was very much aimed at practical coping for everyday situations, obviously.
The spider at the end was entirely optional – I’m not up on exact details, but it was about the size of one palm, if not slightly bugger, with orange rings on its legs. Very docile, like a soft toy, and although I can barely look at the photo now it didn’t leave me stone cold dead at the time, which has got to be a bonus.
Bugger? Er, I meant ‘bigger’. Typing not my forte tonight, too many celebratory Young’s Double Chocolate Stouts.
Beagle: as mentioned above, I know very little, but the zookeeper was adamant it was a “red kneed bird-eating spider”. I think his pet hate was the word ‘tarantula’; he mentioned how overused the word is for non-genuine tarantulas. Something to do with idiot European colonists naming anything remotely resembling the real thing ‘tarantula’ in the New World.
I’ve gotta hand it to you. When you make a typo, you make a damn funny typo! A great big bugger of a bird 'earing spider typo.
I also have to applaud your courage in facing your fear. I don’t have that level of fear of spiders, although I don’t like them on me, but I can almost imagine what it must have been like. So, well done!
And, thanks again, for the laughs. Between you and Johnny L.A., I had tears rolling down my cheeks, from laughing so hard.
Yay! Yay for Crusoe! Yay for the London Zoo! Yay for Maastricht and Johnny L.A.! Yay for spiders (especially cute furry jumping spiders, my favorites too)!
I like spiders. I know many people do not. I am glad to hear you are less scared of them now.
That head of the insect house is a friend of my aunt’s. My sister did her work experience there and they named one of the Mexican red-kneed jobbies after her. Mind you, they only live about 3 years, IIRC, so it’s probably dead by now.
