What struck me most wasn’t just the brilliance in the room. It was the vulnerability. The weariness. The courage to keep showing up for others even when we feel like we’re running on empty. And it wasn’t just about the work we do with clients. It was about the work we do with each other. The work between us.

That phrase—the work between us—has been on my mind a lot lately. Especially when it comes to . . . well, work.

We are living through a profound rupture in how we relate to work and the people with whom we work. People are burned out. Laid off. Asked to return to offices

that don’t feel safe or inspiring. Others are craving reconnection but feel out of practice, unsure how to relate face-to-face again. I’ve heard from managers who feel as if they are expected to be therapists. And I’ve heard from employees who feel as if they are expected to self-actualize while hitting KPIs.

In short: it’s confusing. It’s tender. And it’s very, very human.

Underneath the performance reviews and productivity tools, what we’re really talking about are relationships.

Do I trust you?
Do I feel seen?
Do I matter here?
Will you be there when things get hard?

These questions aren’t soft. They are structural. They shape everything.

I’ve always said that the quality of our relationships determines the quality of our lives. But I also believe this: the quality of our relationships at work determines the quality of our work—and our capacity to stay, to care, to thrive.

REAL TALK

So, what helps? Sometimes it’s big new HR initiatives. Rarely is it slogans about culture. What helps are moments. Stories. Absconding for coffees or a walk around the block. Asking how your colleague would like to be supported during a difficult time. What helps are real conversations that puncture the performative and make space for the real.

At Sessions Live, I watched it happen. A long table. A circle of chairs. A question. A pause. And then, a story, from one therapist to another, united by a shared desire to grow in their chosen profession. Therapist or analyst or first responder or marketer: who we are at work is intrinsically tied to who we are in the world.

Even now—even here—we can still choose to show up. To listen. To go first. To begin again. Because despite everything, people are still trying. Still longing for something more real. And that longing? That’s where the work begins.

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