Personal Narrative: The Ten Existential Rules

There are ten existential rules I learned through sandwich making. I came across these rules during the time I spent in Community North Hospital. At 18, I’d tried everything to cure the crushing depression and crippling fatigue that had plagued me for two years. Self-harm, tempered emotions, and a mix of vodka with anti-depressants landed me in the hospital for a second time- except this time I stayed. I stayed for an entire week, actually. And every morning like clock work, we would wake up at eight, take our medications, and then fill out menus for the day. The food we were served had no salt or seasoning whatsoever, so everyone in the ward would always ask to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Through this, I learned that there is power in the art of sandwich making- and that it surprisingly applies to real-life.

It’s my life, and my sandwich. I’m not making it for anyone else. I don’t necessarily like every sandwich I’ve eaten, so why should everybody like mine? I don’t need approval all the time.

Rule number two- it is OK to make mistakes. It’s something we all do. I can handle making a mistake. It’s okay for others to make them, too. After all, it’s just a sandwich.

Rule number three- other people are OK, and I am OK. People who make sandwiches I don’t like aren’t necessarily bad people. I can’t control how people make their sandwiches, or change them. We all deserve respect.

Rule number four- I don’t have to control things. I will survive if sandwiches are different than what I’m used to or want them to be. I can accept sandwiches as they are. Even if I don’t like the dang sandwich, I can live with it.

Rule number five- I’m responsible for my day, and my sandwich. I’m responsible for how I feel, what I do, and what goes on my sandwich. It’s not the responsibility of others to make my sandwich for me, or for them to change their sandwiches so I can feel