Arachnophobia: a thirteen letter word. It's no coincidence that the number thirteen is seen as unlucky. It's also no coincidence that thirteen minus five is eight, the number of legs on a spider.
As a young child, every trip I made into the great outdoors was accompanied by a fear so deep-rooted that even the president couldn't help me out. Spiders, no matter their size, color, or cultural background elicited a dark feeling within my innocent soul. When I went to see the second Harry Potter film in theaters, the scene in the forest with the gargantuan spiders caused me to leave the theater screaming and clapping my hands in a syncopated rhythm. Clapping my hands always helped me face my fear because it reminded me that spiders lack the ability to clap and thus would have a difficult time beating me in a battle of the bands contest.
You see, there are differing explanations as to why some humans have such strong aversions to these eight-legged creatures, but in my opinion it all goes back to battle of the bands. Many young children have dreams about winning one of these competitions, and seeing a creature with eight appendages instills doubt. I'll never win! How could I stand a chance when my band will always be up against spider musicians who can play four instruments at once. Not fair. These are all common thoughts that run through the minds of children when they see arachnids.
But once I realized that spiders cannot clap, I knew that I had a better chance. All the best bands have frontmen who clap their hands together whilst singing: Coldplay, Blue Oyster Cult, The Rolling Stones. Nonetheless, my fears were not yet completely assuaged. What if these invertebrates use their non-human anatomies to their advantage? The music industry is always looking for the next big thing and maybe spider bands are exactly what they're looking for.
Finally, after fourteen years of arachnophobia, I decided to settle my questions once and for all. I packed up my belongings in a blue handkerchief at the end of a stick, slung my guitar across my back, and headed into the forest. I saw thousands of spiders but I heeded them not; I was only there to talk to one spider. On the eighth day of my forest journey (note the symbolism), I found the object of my search. Mizenstrew, the spider god-king, had already been made aware of my query. Before even opening my mouth, he said in a gruff voice, "Spiders don't play in bands. We only like to make EDM on our MacBooks. I guess you could say that we're 'with it'." Satisfied, I headed back to the suburbs.
So that's how I conquered my fear of spiders, but everyone has a different way of overcoming obstacles and I won't tell you that my method is the only one that works. I've also heard that letting tiny spiders crawl on your arm can help arachnophobes condition themselves to understand that many spiders are harmless. But sometimes, maybe we don't always have to face our fears. Sometimes it's okay to think, Yes. I have this fear. But that's fine. We can't all be perfect.
There will be people who tell you that fear is a bad thing, like FDR. Ignore people like that. They might be able to criticize you over their computer keyboard but they're never going to win battle of the bands so who cares.
