A Week of My Life: The Chaos, The Wins, and The Moments I Wanted a Refund

Every week of my life feels a little like a reality show no one asked for but somehow keeps getting renewed. There’s always just enough chaos to keep things interesting, just enough small victories to convince me I’m doing something right, and at least one moment where I look around and think, “Surely there’s been some mistake. I would like a refund.” So today, I’m walking you through one full week in my life—not the curated version, not the inspirational version, but the honest, humorous, slightly chaotic reality of what it really looks like to be me for seven days on this planet.

Let’s start with Monday, because Monday always has something to prove. I woke up already running behind, which is impressive considering the day had barely begun. My alarm went off, and I did that thing where you convince yourself you can rest your eyes for exactly four more minutes. But four minutes in Erin-time is more like twenty-seven, so suddenly I was late. I threw myself into my morning like a confused cartoon character—half awake, half committed, fully overwhelmed. My coffee machine tried to revolt, sputtering like it had decided to take a personal day. But eventually caffeine happened, and I somehow made it through the morning. Monday ended with me feeling strangely proud of myself for surviving it, which should tell you everything about how my week was already going.

Then came Tuesday, which started out deceptively calm. I had my coffee, I made a to-do list, I felt organized. So of course the universe took that personally. By 10 a.m., I had lost the to-do list, spilled something on myself, and accidentally agreed to something I didn’t actually want to do because I didn’t know how to say no gracefully. Tuesday also featured one of those moments where your brain crashes mid-sentence, and you just stand there blinking like your internal Wi-Fi went down. The win of the day? I found the to-do list under a blanket… after rewriting it twice. Small victories count.

Wednesday was pure chaos disguised as productivity. I woke up with big energy and big plans, but life had different ideas. A simple phone call turned into a project, the project turned into a task list, and the task list turned into the kind of overwhelm where you stare at the wall contemplating your existence. At one point, I had three tabs open, two alarms set, and absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be doing. But the highlight? I actually finished something I had been procrastinating for weeks. If procrastination were a sport, I’d medal, but finishing something I’ve avoided is Olympic-level euphoria.

Then there was Thursday—the day I most wanted a refund. Everything went wrong in the kind of ridiculous way where you just start laughing because the only alternative is crying. I dropped something fragile. I burned my meal. I got stuck behind a driver going approximately the speed of a soft breeze. I tried to multitask and succeeded only in multitasking my stress levels. At one point, I opened my phone to check the time and somehow ended up reading an article about something completely unrelated for twenty minutes. Thursday was a collection of tiny irritations that formed together like Voltron to become one giant annoyance. If life had a return policy, I would have sent Thursday back with a strongly worded note.

By Friday, I was ready for a reset. Fridays always feel like the finish line I’m sprinting toward even though I’m almost out of emotional breath. I woke up determined to change the vibe, and surprisingly, Friday cooperated. I got things done. I laughed a little. I realized the world was not, in fact, ending. I even treated myself to something delicious as a reward for surviving the week. Friday is like that one friend who shows up after all the others have left you hanging, reminds you that you’re doing okay, and hands you a snack.

Saturday was my attempt at being a productive adult and a relaxed human at the same time, which is always an interesting experiment. Part of me wanted to clean, part of me wanted to rest, and part of me wanted to completely ignore all responsibilities and pretend the house cleans itself. Spoiler: it does not. I made progress in slow, uneven bursts that probably burned more calories from decision fatigue than actual movement. But I did manage to get some laundry done, which felt like a personal triumph considering how many times I had ignored it during the week. Saturday also gave me a little pocket of peace, which I happily accepted without question.

And then there was Sunday—the day that tried so hard to be serene but still managed to include a few moments of “what even is my life?” I attempted to be reflective, calm, and centered, but my brain had other ideas. Instead, I found myself doing a combination of worrying about the upcoming week, trying to plan things I won’t follow, and wandering around like I was searching for something I couldn’t name. But Sunday also brought soft moments—those quiet, cozy pockets of comfort where the world feels slower and you suddenly remember that you’re allowed to breathe. I held onto those moments tightly.

Looking back at the full week, it’s easy to see the chaos, the missteps, the flawed attempts at adulting. But there were wins too—tiny ones that might seem insignificant but matter more than we realize. I survived Monday. I rediscovered Tuesday’s to-do list. I completed a long-avoided task on Wednesday. I survived Thursday without setting anything on fire. I rewarded myself on Friday. I cleaned something on Saturday. And I found softness on Sunday. That’s seven little victories—one for every day.

Life isn’t a neatly curated collection of accomplishments. It’s messy, uneven, and unpredictable. Some days you float, some days you fall, and some days you question the entire refund policy of existence. But in the middle of all that, there are moments of humor, triumph, and tenderness. Those moments are why I write. Those moments are why I share. And those moments are why we’re all out here, doing our best, even when our best looks a little chaotic.

If you made it to the end of my week, thank you for putting up with me—literally and figuratively. And if your week looked anything like mine, just know this: you’re not alone. The chaos, the wins, the emotional refund requests—they’re all part of the ride. And somehow, we keep showing up for it.