by admin | Jun 23, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
This past weekend, my best friend Graham passed away after an eighteen-month battle with ALS.
For twenty-three years, he was one of the people I could count on. We met regularly, spoke openly, and shared a friendship that spanned some of the most formative chapters of my life.
ALS took nearly everything physical from him. It took his ability to walk, speak, eat, and eventually breathe independently.
What it never took was his spirit.
In some ways, I thought I was prepared.
I had watched the illness progress. I had witnessed the losses as they happened. I had sat beside him as he made sense of what was being taken from him.
But over the last few days, I’ve noticed something unexpected.
Disorientation.
Not simply sadness. Not only grief.
Disorientation.
As though a landmark I had been navigating by for decades was suddenly gone.
Part of me wanted to solve that feeling. To understand it. To find my footing as quickly as possible.
Instead, I’ve been noticing that grief doesn’t respond particularly well to problem-solving.
It asks for something else.
And in the middle of that, I’ve found myself thinking about leadership. Because we don’t talk very much about grief and leadership.
We talk about resilience.
We talk about overcoming adversity.
We talk about bouncing back.
But we rarely talk about what it means to lead while carrying loss. Life doesn’t pause while we’re grieving.
People still need us.
Work still exists.
Responsibilities remain.
And yet we’re not quite the same person we were a week ago.
Over the last few days, here are a few things I’ve been noticing.
1. Not every feeling needs to be fixed.
My instinct is often to make sense of difficult experiences.
To find the lesson.
To identify the next step.
To move forward.
Grief has been gently challenging that instinct. Some experiences aren’t asking for solutions.
They’re asking for space.
For attention.
For time.
2. Capacity changes, and that’s okay.
I’ve noticed moments where my concentration drifts more easily.
Moments where I feel more tired than usual.
Moments where emotions arrive unexpectedly.
For a long time, I might have interpreted those changes as weakness or a lack of resilience. Now I’m wondering if they’re simply part of being human.
Grief changes what resources we have available. Acknowledging that reality feels healthier than pretending it doesn’t exist.
3. Letting people see the struggle creates connection.
This one has surprised me.
I’ve been honest with my team and colleagues that I’m grieving. Not dramatically. Not as an explanation for everything.
Just honestly.
And what I’ve received in return has been incredibly tender.
People have checked in.
Offered support.
Given grace.
Shown care.
It has reminded me that when we allow others to see us as whole people, not just competent professionals, we create opportunities for them to show up too.
Leadership can sometimes feel like an expectation to have everything together.
But there is something deeply human about saying, “I’m having a hard week.”
Not because we are seeking rescue. But because we are allowing ourselves to be known.
4. Showing up imperfectly is still showing up.
I haven’t brought my best self to every room this week.
But I’ve shown up.
I’ve listened.
I’ve contributed.
I’ve cared.
And I’ve started to realize that people don’t need perfection from us nearly as much as they need presence.
For much of my life, I believed strength meant pushing through. Lately, I’m wondering if strength sometimes looks different.
Maybe strength is allowing ourselves to be affected by what matters.
Maybe it’s accepting help.
Maybe it’s grieving.
Maybe it’s showing up honestly instead of flawlessly.
I don’t know that grief has made me a better leader.
It’s far too early for conclusions like that.
What I do know is that losing Graham has reminded me how deeply our lives are shaped by the people we love.
When someone has been part of your world for twenty-three years, their absence isn’t simply a missing person. It changes the landscape itself. And perhaps that is part of what I’ve been feeling these last few days.
Not just grief.
But learning how to orient myself in a place that has changed shape.
For now, I’m trying not to rush that process.
I’m trying not to turn grief into a lesson too quickly.
Not to solve it.
Not to outwork it.
Not to convince myself that I’m fine.
Instead, I’m trying to make room for it. To let people help. To accept that some days my capacity may be different. To trust that showing up imperfectly is still a meaningful way of showing up.
Most of all, I’m trying to remember that being human and being a leader are not competing realities.
They are the same reality.
This week, leadership has looked less like having answers and more like being honest about where I am.
And perhaps there is something valuable in that too.
Not despite the grief. But because of the humanity it reveals.
-sd
by admin | Jun 8, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
Have you ever found yourself saying something in a meeting and then replaying it for the rest of the day?
Or snapping at someone you care about and wondering where that reaction came from?
Maybe you’ve walked away from a conversation thinking:
“That wasn’t how I wanted to show up.”
Most of us have had moments where we felt less patient, less thoughtful, less creative, or less connected than we wanted to be.
We assume the problem is communication.
Or conflict skills.
Or stress.
Or simply having too much on our plates.
But often something else is happening beneath the surface.
Our nervous system is carrying more than it can sustainably hold.
And when that happens, our ability to access our best thinking, our values, our judgment, and our relationships can begin to narrow.
This is why I believe one of the most important leadership skills we rarely talk about is nervous system literacy.
Not because leadership is only for people with formal authority.
But because leadership happens every day.
In conversations.
In decision-making.
In conflict.
In parenting.
In teamwork.
What Is Nervous System Literacy?
Nervous system literacy is the ability to recognize, understand, and respond to the signals our nervous system sends us about capacity, stress, safety, overwhelm, and recovery.
It involves noticing when we are becoming activated, understanding how that activation influences our thinking and behaviour, and developing strategies that help us return to a state where we can access our values, judgment, creativity, and connection with others.
In practical terms, it means being able to recognize:
- When we are approaching overwhelm
- When our capacity is becoming depleted
- When stress is affecting our decision-making
- When we need recovery rather than more effort
- When our reactions may be shaped more by activation than by intention
Like emotional intelligence, nervous system literacy is emerging as a critical leadership capability in an increasingly complex, fast-paced, and uncertain world.
Because most leadership challenges are not simply technical challenges.
They are nervous system challenges.
A difficult conversation.
A tense team meeting.
Critical feedback.
Competing priorities.
An unexpected change.
A project that is falling behind.
A decision with no perfect answer.
In these moments, our ability to access curiosity, perspective, empathy, creativity, and sound judgment is profoundly influenced by the state of our nervous system.
A Common Leadership Scenario
Imagine a leader walking into a meeting after a difficult morning.
Their calendar has been packed since 8 a.m.
They have skipped lunch.
A challenging email arrived thirty minutes earlier.
They are already carrying concerns about staffing, budgets, and competing priorities.
During the meeting, a team member raises a concern about a project.
The leader becomes defensive.
They interrupt.
They rush toward solutions before fully understanding the issue.
They dismiss concerns that deserve exploration.
Afterwards, they wonder:
“Why did I react that way?”
Many leadership development models would focus on communication skills.
But the issue may not be a lack of communication skills.
The issue may be a lack of capacity.
The leader likely knew how they wanted to show up.
They simply could not access that version of themselves in that moment.
Their nervous system was overloaded.
And when nervous systems become overloaded, our capacity often narrows.
We become more reactive.
More rigid.
More defensive.
More avoidant.
More controlling.
Or sometimes more accommodating and people-pleasing.
Not because we lack character or competence.
Because we are human.
What Dysregulation Looks Like at Work
When people think about dysregulation, they often imagine visible emotional distress.
But in workplaces, dysregulation frequently looks much more socially acceptable.
It can show up as:
- Constant urgency
- Overworking
- Perfectionism
- Difficulty prioritizing
- Micromanagement
- Conflict avoidance
- People-pleasing
- Emotional suppression
- Decision fatigue
- Withdrawal and disengagement
- An inability to stop working despite exhaustion
Many of these behaviours are not only normalized in organizational culture, they are often rewarded.
We call them dedication. Commitment. Professionalism. High performance. Resilience.
Yet beneath the surface, they may be signs that a person’s nervous system is carrying more than it can sustainably hold.
This is where an important distinction emerges.
Many workplaces mistake emotional suppression for emotional regulation.
Appearing calm is not the same thing as being regulated.
Remaining silent is not the same thing as feeling safe.
Pushing through exhaustion is not the same thing as resilience.
Compliance and regulation are not the same thing.
A regulated leader is not someone who never experiences stress, frustration, uncertainty, or emotional activation.
A regulated leader is someone who can recognize those experiences and remain connected to themselves while moving through them.
What Neurodivergent Experience Can Teach Us
This is one reason I believe neurodivergent experiences have much to teach us about leadership.
Many autistic and ADHD individuals spend significant portions of their lives learning to recognize and navigate nervous system states.
They learn to notice sensory overload.
Cognitive fatigue.
Emotional overwhelm.
Social exhaustion.
Executive functioning challenges.
The impact of uncertainty and ambiguity.
Not because they are less capable than others.
But because the consequences of ignoring these signals are often immediate and difficult to overlook.
Over time, many develop a heightened awareness of the relationship between capacity, environment, energy, and performance.
They learn that sustainable participation is not simply a matter of trying harder.
It is also a matter of understanding how human beings function.
In this way, neurodivergent experience offers more than a perspective on inclusion.
It offers insight into leadership itself.
The Leadership Opportunity
We have spent decades teaching leaders how to communicate more effectively.
How to manage conflict.
How to make decisions.
How to influence others.
These skills remain important.
But perhaps the next frontier of leadership development is helping leaders understand the conditions that make those skills accessible in the first place.
Because before communication comes capacity.
Before conflict engagement comes regulation.
Before effective decision-making comes awareness.
And awareness begins with nervous system literacy.
In a world characterized by uncertainty, complexity, change, and growing demands, leaders who understand their own nervous systems, and who can create conditions that support regulation for others, may be among the most effective leaders of all.
The future of leadership may not belong to those who can tolerate the most pressure.
It may belong to those who can recognize when pressure is affecting their ability to think, connect, and lead, and who know how to return to themselves before leading others.
-sd
by admin | May 28, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
What it means to feel heard at work and why the nervous system knows when it doesn’t.
This week, our team had a thoughtful conversation about what it means to feel heard, and perhaps more importantly, what it feels like when we don’t.
What emerged was striking in its diversity.
Some people described feeling heard as a physiological experience. Their bodies soften. Their shoulders drop. Their nervous systems stop bracing. Others spoke about pace and time – not being rushed, interrupted, or pushed toward premature resolution. Some emphasized the importance of relationship and trust. Others named the need for validation: having past experiences acknowledged rather than dismissed, minimized, or debated.
The conversation reminded me that feeling heard is not simply about whether words were exchanged. It is an embodied, relational experience.
And while the pathways into feeling heard may differ from person to person, the discussion eventually circled toward a surprisingly simple but powerful framework from a 2023 study by Roos, Postmes, and Koudenburg titled Feeling heard: Operationalizing a key concept for social relations.
The researchers describe feeling heard as:
the feeling that one’s communication is received with attention, empathy, respect, and in a spirit of mutual understanding.
What I appreciated about this framing is that it shifts “feeling heard” from something abstract or sentimental into something operational. It gives us ingredients.
Not a script. Not a communication hack. But conditions.
Feeling Heard Is More Than Agreement
One of the most important insights from both the research and our conversation was this:
People do not necessarily need agreement in order to feel heard. They need evidence that their experience has been seriously received.
This distinction matters enormously in workplaces.
Leaders often assume that if they cannot accommodate a request, fully resolve a conflict, or align with someone’s perspective, then the person will inevitably leave feeling unheard. But in practice, many people can tolerate difficult outcomes far more readily than they can tolerate dismissal, defensiveness, avoidance, or relational disengagement.
People often know when a perfect solution is impossible.
What becomes destabilizing is when they feel invisible inside the process.
Attention Is a Leadership Practice
The research identifies attention as a foundational component of feeling heard.
In workplace settings, attention is often undermined not by malice, but by speed.
Multitasking during conversations. Listening while preparing a rebuttal. Moving too quickly toward efficiency or problem-solving. Responding before fully understanding.
Many workplaces reward responsiveness over presence.
But people can often feel the difference between being managed and being meaningfully attended to.
Attention communicates:
- “I am with you.”
- “I am tracking what you are saying.”
- “Your experience matters enough for me to slow down.”
For some nervous systems, particularly those shaped by marginalization, chronic interruption, invalidation, or high-stakes workplace dynamics, this slowing down can profoundly alter the experience of psychological safety.
Empathy Is Not Fragility
Empathy is sometimes misunderstood in organizations as lowering standards, avoiding accountability, or becoming emotionally overaccommodating.
But empathy is not the absence of accountability.
It is the capacity to understand the human experience occurring alongside the issue being discussed.
A performance conversation without empathy can feel cold or threatening. A conflict conversation without empathy can escalate defensiveness. A change process without empathy can produce distrust even when intentions are good.
Empathy does not mean agreement. It means demonstrating that another person’s reality has been considered with care.
Respect Is Felt Through Process
Many people associate respect with tone or politeness. But in workplaces, respect is often communicated structurally.
Through:
- transparency
- predictability
- fairness
- responsiveness
- inclusion in decision-making
- clarity around expectations
- honoring boundaries and time
- not humiliating or dismissing people publicly
People often determine whether they are respected less through organizational values statements and more through repeated lived interactions.
How meetings are facilitated. Who gets interrupted. Whose concerns are minimized. Who receives follow-up. Whose discomfort is treated as inconvenient.
Respect becomes visible through patterns.
Feeling Heard Is Collective, Not Just Interpersonal
One of the things I appreciated most about the visual framework from the article was that it moves from “me” to “we.”
Feeling heard begins interpersonally, but it shapes collective culture.
When people repeatedly feel unheard at work, the consequences are not merely emotional. Over time, organizations often experience:
- withdrawal
- disengagement
- conflict avoidance
- resentment
- fear-based communication
- decreased innovation
- reduced trust
- emotional exhaustion
People stop bringing forward concerns. They stop contributing ideas. They conserve energy. They protect themselves.
Conversely, cultures where people more consistently feel heard often build greater resilience for navigating complexity, disagreement, and change.
Not because conflict disappears but because people trust they can survive being in it together.
Questions for Leaders
As leaders, facilitators, educators, and colleagues, perhaps the question is not simply:
“Did I communicate?”
But also:
- Did people experience attention?
- Did they experience empathy?
- Did they experience respect?
- Did the process create conditions for mutual understanding?
- What signals did the nervous system receive in this interaction?
Because feeling heard is not only cognitive.
It is relational. Physiological. Cultural. Structural.
And increasingly, in complex workplaces, it may be one of the most important conditions for sustainable trust.
-sd
Reference: Roos CA, Postmes T, Koudenburg N (2023). Feeling heard: Operationalizing a key concept for social relations. PLoS ONE, 18(11)
by admin | May 19, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
One of the biggest misconceptions about difficult conversations at work is that they’re primarily communication problems.
Often, they’re nervous system problems – first.
Not because people are irrational.
Not because they lack professionalism.
But because conversations at work rarely happen in a vacuum.
They happen inside:
- power dynamics
- histories
- uncertainty
- identity
- performance pressure
- fear of consequences
- previous unresolved tension
- competing interpretations
- emotional exhaustion
Which means by the time a conversation becomes “difficult,” people are often responding to much more than the words being spoken in that moment.
I see this often in leadership spaces.
A leader says: “I don’t understand why this conversation escalated.”
But when you slow the situation down, the escalation often started long before the conversation itself.
Sometimes people are carrying:
- months of ambiguity
- accumulated frustration
- fear of being misunderstood
- previous experiences of dismissal
- anxiety about reputation or belonging
- uncertainty about consequences
- internal pressure to stay composed
And then one comment, one email, one meeting, or one moment becomes the place where all of that tension finally surfaces.
It is often times when the nervous system has reached capacity.
A Case I’ve Been Thinking About
Recently, I was reflecting on a workplace situation where a leader needed to have an evaluatory conversation with a team member.
On paper, the conversation seemed straightforward.
The leader had prepared clear examples. Their intentions were good. They believed they were being direct and transparent.
But the conversation deteriorated quickly.
The employee became visibly shut down. The leader became more rigid and procedural. Both people left feeling frustrated and misunderstood.
And afterward, the leader’s interpretation was: “They became defensive and unwilling to hear feedback.”
But when we unpacked the interaction more carefully, a different picture emerged.
The employee had entered the conversation already highly activated.
There had been weeks of uncertainty. Limited communication. Ambiguous expectations. A growing fear that they were “failing” without fully understanding why.
So by the time the evaluatory conversation arrived, the nervous system wasn’t hearing: “Here’s an opportunity for growth.”
It was hearing: “You are under threat.” “You are disappointing.” “You may be rejected.” “You are about to lose stability.”
And importantly, the leader’s nervous system became activated too.
The more shut down the employee became, the more the leader tightened their delivery in an attempt to regain clarity and control.
Which increased discomfort for the employee even further.
This is what people often miss about difficult conversations: Both people are usually adapting in real time.
And adaptation under stress often looks like:
- defensiveness
- over-explaining
- withdrawal
- rigidity
- appeasement
- emotional flooding
- intellectualizing
- shutting down
- excessive calmness
- loss of language access
- urgency for resolution
Not because people are intentionally difficult.
But because nervous systems under pressure prioritize protection before connection.
What Leadership Can Do Differently
This doesn’t mean avoiding accountability conversations.
It doesn’t mean eliminating feedback.
And it doesn’t mean leaders are responsible for managing everyone’s emotions.
But it does mean leadership needs to become more aware of the conditions surrounding conversations — not just the content of them.
Some of the most effective leaders I’ve worked with understand that difficult conversations are shaped long before the meeting itself.
Things that reduce unnecessary nervous system activation include:
- clearer expectations earlier
- fewer ambiguity gaps
- predictable communication
- relational trust before crisis
- transparency about process
- slowing conversations down
- naming observations instead of assumptions
- checking interpretation before escalation
- making room for clarification
- understanding the role of power dynamics
- separating accountability from threat
And perhaps most importantly: Learning how to regulate yourself before trying to regulate the conversation. Because people often mirror the nervous system conditions around them.
A leader who becomes rigid, urgent, emotionally reactive, overly procedural, or conflict-avoidant under pressure can unintentionally intensify the very dynamic they’re trying to resolve.
The goal isn’t perfect communication.
The goal is building enough clarity, structure, and relational steadiness that people can remain connected to themselves while navigating discomfort.
That changes everything.
Practical Tools for Difficult Conversations
A lot of my recent work has focused on helping leaders and teams navigate conflict, communication, regulation, and difficult conversations more intentionally inside complex systems.
I recently developed a practical Difficult Conversations Toolkit that includes:
- conversation frameworks
- nervous system awareness tools
- regulation prompts
- reflection exercises
- structured conversation supports
- practical guidance for navigating high-stakes conversations
You can explore it here:
https://silviadaddario.com/courses/when-conversations-get-hard-course/
-sd
by admin | May 9, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
It’s Mental Health Awareness Month, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how often we talk about mental health as though it exists separately from the systems people are trying to survive inside.
We talk about stress.
Burnout.
Anxiety.
Emotional exhaustion.
But we don’t talk nearly enough about adaptation.
About what it costs to spend years learning how to suppress parts of yourself in order to be perceived as professional, credible, emotionally regulated, or safe to work with.
Especially for people whose ways of thinking, communicating, processing, or relating don’t naturally align with dominant workplace norms.
Many leaders are not struggling because they are incapable.
They are struggling because they are carrying enormous invisible labour inside environments that reward performance over authenticity, speed over processing, and composure over honesty.
And over time, that adaptation has a cost.
I see it in leaders who:
- rehearse conversations repeatedly before speaking
- monitor their tone constantly
- over-explain to avoid being misunderstood
- shut down mid-conflict because their nervous system floods
- absorb tension quietly to preserve relationships
- feel exhausted after meetings that others barely notice
- spend more energy interpreting the room than participating in it
A lot of this gets framed as personal weakness.
A lack of resilience.
Poor communication.
Being “too sensitive.”
Overthinking.
But much of what we call dysfunction is actually adaptation.
Adaptation to systems that were never designed for different nervous systems, communication styles, identities, or ways of processing the world.
And the hard part is:
many of these adaptations work.
They help people stay employed.
Stay connected.
Stay credible.
Stay safe.
Until they don’t.
Until the body starts signaling distress.
Until burnout becomes chronic.
Until anxiety becomes constant.
Until people lose access to themselves entirely while trying to remain acceptable to everyone else.
This is one of the reasons I think mental health conversations need to become more structural.
Because mental health is not only about what individuals carry internally.
It’s also about what environments repeatedly require people to suppress, perform, absorb, navigate, or survive.
And leadership matters here.
Not just in how leaders support others, but in what leadership itself currently demands from people.
Many leadership models still reward:
- emotional suppression disguised as professionalism
- certainty over reflection
- rapid responses over thoughtful processing
- endurance over sustainability
- neutrality over humanity
And increasingly, I think many people are realizing those models are not working.
Not because people are failing leadership.
But because leadership, as we inherited it, often fails people.
Particularly neurodivergent people.
Disabled people.
Queer people.
Racialized people.
Trauma-affected people.
Anyone whose body or nervous system has had to become highly adaptive to move through the world.
For me, this isn’t about lowering expectations.
It’s about asking better questions.
What kinds of leadership become possible when people are not spending enormous amounts of energy masking?
What happens when regulation is understood not as emotional suppression, but as staying connected to yourself under pressure?
What changes when workplaces stop rewarding the appearance of steadiness and start building actual capacity for honesty, reflection, repair, accessibility, and relational safety?
I don’t think these are fringe questions anymore.
I think they are becoming central leadership questions.
Especially as more people quietly realize:
the way they’ve been surviving at work may not actually be sustainable.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing more about neurodivergent leadership, invisible labour, emotional regulation, conflict, and the hidden adaptations many people carry inside professional environments.
Because I don’t think we need more conversations about how to perform wellness inside unhealthy systems.
I think we need more conversations about what different kinds of leadership are making visible about the systems themselves.
-sd
