Burnt Chicken

The Language of Asking for Help

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The first two weeks of July 2024 were a bundle of busyness. With numerous balls and plates in the air, I was constantly pushed and pulled in multiple directions. In addition, the emotional memory of my son’s cancer diagnosis was forever embedded in my DNA, so every situation felt charged.

Add eight months of intense care for my mom, and I was on the edge.

September would be a year since she fell, broke her femur, and had major surgery. She still struggled physically and had a slew of health problems. I struggled to care for myself, run a business, love my family, and care for my mom. This brought up memories from taking care of Nick in 2008 while he fought cancer until his death only four months later.

We learned at her doctor’s visit that she needed an MRI. I rushed home, managed to get a walk in, then put my husband’s chicken on the barbeque. My sister texted that the only appointment available was for that Wednesday at 1:50pm.

All I thought was that my son had asked me to help him with his car that day. I wanted to be there for him, maybe have lunch so we could have time together. I also had to teach that night. I called to change the appointment but couldn’t.

Then I remembered the chicken! It had been 45 minutes. I opened the grill and started to cry. It was too much.

The Chicken was Burnt!

I tried to cook a good meal for my husband. I felt ripped apart. At that moment when I stared at my husband’s ruined dinner, I didn’t have the language to express that I was out of steam, feeling hopeless, and struggling.

When Luke saw my face, he asked what was wrong. I told him I burnt his chicken.

“So? He said.

He didn’t get it. This wasn’t about the charred, smoking chicken. It was the final straw of me being overwhelmed and rushing. Loss of time. Loss of dreams. Loss of my mom’s mobility. Loss of ease and space.

I explained it wasn’t about the burnt dinner (luckily he ate leftovers). It was the fact that I couldn’t and shouldn’t do it all. How I go, go, go because I’m waiting for the next emergency to happen.

Just talking about it brought the situation into perspective and eased my heart. Being seen and heard meant a lot. He wasn’t there to fix it. He couldn’t. He simply held space for me.

After I cried and we talked, I wrote about what I felt and what fueled the explosion.

What I could control, release, breathe in.

There’s this balance and oftentimes an imbalance when caring for others who need your help and caring for yourself so you both have quality of life. I wanted to make sure my mom felt loved and supported. This was important to me but I kept getting bowled over with all there was to do. I needed to release the stories of doing it all and rewrite what aligned more with my soul and physical abilities.

Burnt Chicken is when I’ve been thrown into the flames and I feel the anguish. But as Clarissa Pinkola Estés explains, we still hold the shape of our sacred vessels no matter how much burning we go through.

“That the little dark Blessed Mother was burned, but she was not consumed.” page 140

“We still hold our holy shapes, no matter what fire we have been passed through.” page 140 Untie the Strong Woman by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

But we need the language to ask for support. Being with the emotions, talking, and journaling help us recognize that Love for ourselves must come first. It is not being selfish, it’s allowing ourselves to be Self Full of light, love, and alignment.

Burnt Chicken doesn’t mean you need someone to take over or fix you. It’s letting someone know that you need that Pause Place to take a breath.

It has become our family's phrase for needing help but it’s also a self-indicator. If I’m journaling, and I smell that Burnt Chicken and tears are threatening to flow, I Recognize, Acknowledge, Investigate, Nurture, Act, Reach Out, and Record.

I expanded the RAIN technique developed by Michele McDonald.

Burnt Chicken has come up since its inception. When that happens, I drop everything and that person is the priority. It may be a call, immediate help, intervention, or simply a hug!

But even within that flame, I care for me, and am self-aware.

It may be a good idea to not let ourselves get that far but sometimes life throws those flames at you and you have to jump in.

I love Brené Brown’s take on the 80/20 rule that feels like a pre-Burnt Chicken option. If one partner comes home and is at 20% capacity after a difficult caregiving day, for example, this is language that lets their partner know that they need to take up the other 80% and perhaps cook dinner or order out.

If they aren’t able to fill the 80%, then a conversation needs to be had and kindness shown to each other. Just recognizing the emotions and needs are huge and can prevent Burnt Chicken.

This doesn’t have to be only between partners. It can be with friends, siblings, co-workers, within families.

Burnt Chicken affects all of us whether we’re caregivers, raising a family, grieving, making ends meet, feeling overwhelmed, or bleak.

Code Words are quick ways to get help and care for yourself.

If possible, have the conversation before it gets to that Burnt Chicken stage. I open heartedly offer you this phrase but do what is best for you and your loved ones.

I’d love to hear if you’ve come up with a Code Word and how it has helped.

Let’s Connect: Always happy to hear from you. Feel free to share stories or how this resonates. All thoughts are welcome.

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