Editor’s Note:
This article was originally written as a satirical commentary on people who use “split personality” as an excuse for irresponsible behaviour. Since it was first published, public understanding of mental health has advanced considerably. The term “split personality” is not a medical diagnosis and has long been incorrectly used as a synonym for schizophrenia. Schizophrenia is a complex psychiatric illness that is unrelated to having multiple personalities. The article reflects the author’s personal opinions and humour while highlighting the misuse of mental health terminology rather than making light of those living with mental illness.
Ever since cinemas worldwide premiered the Jim Carrey movie Me, Myself & Irene in 2000, a great deal of attention was directed toward the popular expression “split personality.” The film attracted criticism from mental health professionals and advocacy groups because it incorrectly portrayed schizophrenia as a “split personality” disorder. Promotional material, including T-shirts and novelty pill bottles, further trivialized a serious mental illness. Following widespread protests, references to schizophrenia were removed from parts of the promotional campaign because they contributed to public misunderstanding of the condition.
More than two decades later, misconceptions still exist. People sometimes casually refer to someone having a “split personality” when describing inconsistent behaviour or dramatic mood changes. In reality, “split personality” is not a recognised medical diagnosis.
Don’t get me wrong, this article is not about schizophrenia itself, nor is it intended to make jokes about people living with mental illness. Instead, it is about people who conveniently use imaginary “other personalities” as excuses for behaviour that is entirely their own responsibility.
An American couple I know, Anna and her husband George, had been living in Jakarta for almost a year. They had started their tropical life with the usual expatriate hopes and expectations. Orchids in the garden, an English-speaking driver and plenty of household staff making sure their sliced mango wasn’t served too cold. Life seemed good.
Anna’s husband had accepted a two-year contract with a large oil company operating throughout Indonesia. Although he was initially based in Jakarta, he gradually spent more and more time at a remote operational site in Kalimantan. First it was one trip each month, then two, and eventually he was spending two weeks of every month away from home.
Anna wasn’t thrilled by the arrangement. Stories about giant leeches and headhunters certainly didn’t encourage her to accompany him into the jungle.
So a long-distance marriage every second week it became.
Whenever George returned home he was the model husband and devoted father. Fresh lobster and semi-precious stones from Borneo always found their way into his luggage. Anna was content.
Until the day she visited her doctor.
She was shocked to discover she had contracted a sexually transmitted infection (STI). After both she and George completed a course of antibiotics, the infection disappeared—only to return again. And again. She was completely bewildered.
The answer arrived unexpectedly one morning while George was away at the work site.
Anna called George’s room at the base camp.
A woman answered the telephone in the local language.
In that instant, Anna’s world collapsed.
She later discovered that George had become a regular customer at a nearby brothel. Such establishments were not uncommon around remote exploration camps employing predominantly male workforces.
“I couldn’t stand being without a woman for two weeks,” George explained after being confronted. “I’m sorry, Anna. I wasn’t really myself when I was there.”
There it was.
The classic excuse.
He wasn’t really himself.
As though every time he arrived in the jungle he magically transformed into his “wild” personality. Hidden George had apparently emerged.
Was he suffering from a split personality?
Hardly.
A far more likely explanation was that George had simply chosen to behave badly. His conscience had taken a holiday while his hormones stayed fully employed.
My favourite example came from an old Cosmopolitan magazine article about the worst breakup excuses ever given.
One man actually told his girlfriend he was leaving her because “his other personality” had fallen in love with somebody else.
The truly tragic part?
She believed him.
Please…
Get a life.
Another famous example comes from political history. When confronted with uncomfortable questions, it is remarkable how conveniently some people suddenly “can’t remember.” Memory loss seems to appear precisely when accountability arrives.
Blaming an imaginary second personality is an easy escape because nobody can punish the fictional culprit.
What would you do?
Send only half the person to prison?
Punish one side while congratulating the other?
It simply doesn’t work.
The reality is much less complicated.
People make choices.
Sometimes they make terrible ones.
Inventing an imaginary alter ego doesn’t erase responsibility.
If someone tries to excuse repeated dishonest or destructive behaviour by claiming they “weren’t themselves,” perhaps the real problem isn’t an imaginary personality at all—it’s an unwillingness to accept accountability for their actions.
That, in my opinion, is a far poorer character trait than any fictional split personality.
By Aida Greenbury
First published in the Jakarta Post.
