In a world quick to label and quicker to judge, we rarely pause to question our assumptions—until something, or someone, does it for us.
A different experience
Some years ago, I participated in a virtual workshop designed to challenge biases and break down the barriers we unknowingly build between ourselves and others. Each person was paired with someone who had lived a very different experience. My partner was Johann (name changed to protect identity), a man from Denmark living with schizophrenia.
Split from reality versus split personalities
To be honest, I had never met anyone with schizophrenia before. My understanding was limited, drawn mostly from films like Split, where characters display multiple personalities. Johann gently corrected me right away: “That’s not schizophrenia,” he said. “That’s dissociative identity disorder. Schizophrenia isn’t about having different personalities. It’s about a split in perception—how the mind processes reality.”
The path to suicide
He shared his story with a calm clarity I didn’t expect. He told me that, for as long as he could remember, there had been two voices in his head—Person A and Person B. From an early age, he identified them as his imaginary friends and believed this was normal—that everyone had voices in their head like that. These voices weren’t silent passengers; they argued, criticised, and told him he was ugly and worthless. When one voice urged him to take his own life, he actually tried to do so at the age of 16. His mother rushed him to the hospital, and that was when Johann was diagnosed.
The doctor offered him two medications: one to remove the visual hallucinations, and one to stop the voices. He accepted the first—but refused the second.
Your comfort may equal to another’s abandonment
I was stunned.
“Why would you choose to keep the voices?” I asked.
His answer astonished me. “Because I grew up with them,” he said. “They’ve been with me all my life. Even when they argue or put me down, they’re familiar. Without them, I’d feel lonely. They’re part of me now—and I’ve learned how to live with them peacefully.”
That conversation shifted something deep within me. I realised how quickly we assume we know what is best for people based on what makes sense to us. But what brings comfort or peace to one person may feel like abandonment to another.
Life lesson
Meeting Johann reminded me that strength doesn’t always look the way we expect it to. Sometimes, it means finding peace with the parts of ourselves that others might run from. It’s learning to live with complexity, not erase it.