The 12 Labours Of A Narcissist
The popular belief is that narcissism has no cure, that even if a narcissist wanted to change, they would fail. Since their pathology developed during their formative years, the narcissist simply has no hope. You cannot teach an old narcissist new tricks, it seems. Once a narcissist, always a narcissist.
And yet, my mind still wanders on occasion. Observing the narcissists in my circles, I imagine what it would take. Sometimes my inner psychopath smirks, and considers dropping an LSD tab or ecstasy pill in a narcissist’s coffee. There’s no way they could remain unchanged after that, surely?
Once I’ve had my chuckle, I return to less criminal thoughts. My neurodivergent mind sharpens again while making unusual connections. I find myself thinking about Hercules, or ‘Heracles’, as the Greeks called him.
Although he’s barely narcissistic, there’s enough in Heracles’ story to make me suspect that his heroic journey could offer a blueprint for a narcissist to heal.
The Labours Of Heracles
In the Greek myth, Heracles was the illegitimate son of Zeus. Zeus’ wife Hera despised her husband’s infidelity, and often took revenge on Zeus’ offspring.
Fast forward to adulthood, and Heracles is happily married with children. He comes home one day, yet doesn’t find his family. Instead, he is met by a pack of beasts. His infamous anger erupts, and he murders the animals, just before Hera’s cunning spell ends. Heracles is horrified to discover that the beasts were in fact his wife and children disguised.
Heracles is overwhelmed with grief and guilt. In ancient Greece, murdering your kin is a great sin. And so Heracles, through a series of events, is forced to undertake ‘ten labours’ as atonement, with each challenge demanding a superhuman effort from our great hero.
The labours of Heracles included slaying a lion, defeating a multi-headed hydra which grew two new heads for each one removed, and even at one point had Heracles holding up the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Is this what I am demanding from the narcissist to ‘atone’ for their sins?
In a way, yes, I guess I am. Some of the labours I’ll be suggesting might feel as difficult as slaying mighty lions or carrying the weight of the world — at least for a narcissist.
So what would these labours look like? And what effect would they even have? Let’s take a closer look:
First Labour: Be Present
For a moment in time, the narcissist will need to forego their ego. No thinking, no fantasising about how awesome they are, no seducing their prey, no escapism; only pure focus on the present moment.
For this, the narcissist needs to sit upright in silence, alone, and pay attention to a single point with their eyes open. Every time they dissociate, or become lost in their thoughts, they must return their focus to the same point.
What arises from this exercise is a momentary escape from the warmth of the narcissist’s false self, leaving their True Self exposed to reality. In this unprotected, present state, the narcissist’s repressed trauma, shame and grief simmer to the surface, threatening to devour the narcissist whole like a vicious lion.
Can the narcissist withstand this challenge? Even for twenty minutes?
Second Labour: Listen Fully
While speaking to someone, the narcissist must avoid the impulse to interject with an unwanted analysis or braggadocious story of their own. Thinking of their response is not allowed until after the person is done speaking. The narcissist must only listen, and use the gift of presence they earned during their first labour.
This second labour is symbolised by Heracles’ slaughter of the flock of Stymphalian Birds gathered by a lake. The birds represent the narcissist’s busy thoughts, and the lake is a symbol of the unconscious. By shooting their thoughts with the ‘arrow’ of presence, the narcissist clears their unconscious mind, allowing them to listen fully.
Third Labour: Offer Support
This labour involves the narcissist offering help to someone in need — with no expectation of payment or reciprocity, as were the conditions placed on Heracles during his labours (Nobody could pay him or help him).
Most narcissists would feel resentful being of service to someone, as this is the exact opposite of gaining narcissistic supply. Nobody who is ‘superior’ offers help to their ‘inferiors’, making this an especially brutal labour for the narcissist to endure.
Fourth Labour: Invite Criticism
Would someone who is ‘perfect’ in every way ask for constructive criticism? Obviously not. Which is why the narcissist must invite suggestions on ways for them to improve as a human — anything the other person deems worthy of mentioning.
The narcissist must then accept the criticism silently and take inventory, before taking action to improve.
Fifth Labour: Ask For A Lesson
The narcissist knows everything. Duh. Nonetheless, for this labour, they need to ask someone to instruct them, and then pay attention.
There’s one added condition on this labour: It can’t be someone the narcissist deems to be a ‘guru’ or ‘of high stature’. It must be someone the narcissist looks down on.
Sixth Labour: Be Alone
The narcissist must spend time in solitude without anyone giving them attention. They need to put their phone on aeroplane mode, and go somewhere they are anonymous. They can even go into nature.
Whatever they decide to do, the narcissist must be alone, without any source of narcissistic supply. No adulation, attention or affirmation. Nothing. Just them and their own company, in a state of isolation and presence with their thoughts and emotions.
This labour is much like Heracles’ pursuit of Poseidon’s Cretan Bull, who was rampaging through the island of Crete. A narcissist often can’t contain their recklessness, with their grandiosity pulling them in all directions.
