InterHuman Solutions

InterHuman Solutions Melissa works with managers, teams, divisions, and organizations to help transform culture. Explore the type of program that works for you!

Serving cake once a month doesn’t create a good work culture. Especially if employees are eating dirt every other day. O...
06/02/2026

Serving cake once a month doesn’t create a good work culture. Especially if employees are eating dirt every other day.

Organizations often approach "well-being" by offering perks: wellness apps, meditation subscriptions, massage days. While those aren’t bad things, they don't fix a broken environment. They just temporarily mask the taste of dirt.

The real drivers of well-being live in the day-to-day: how work actually gets done, how managers show up, whether people feel safe speaking honestly, and what a regular day feels like. That’s what I’m digging into this Thursday in a free, live webinar, and I’d love for you to join.

We'll talk about:
→ Misconceptions about burnout (hint: it's not an employee problem)
→ The manager behaviors that build or destroy trust
→ How to create real psychological safety (not the poster-on-the-wall kind)
→ What healthy cultures actually look and feel like from the inside

I'm genuinely excited to bring these ideas to the people who have the most power to change things. Leaders, this one's for you!

Thursday, June 4 | 2–3 PM ET
RSVP in the comments!

Last week, a loved one in another city was rushed to a hospital, one where we had no sense of the culture or care she wo...
05/26/2026

Last week, a loved one in another city was rushed to a hospital, one where we had no sense of the culture or care she would receive. And because she was transported by ambulance in the middle of the night, we didn’t have time to research or choose a specific hospital.

I was terrified.

Yet from the moment I arrived a few hours later, something immediately stood out. The staff seemed deeply engaged, genuinely happy, and clearly connected to a purpose beyond the work itself.

Even in the busy Emergency Department, her nurse was responsive, caring, and focused on our needs. Every practitioner took time to explain the diagnosis and options, answer questions, and encourage us to call if we needed any additional information.

When I got lost looking for the cafeteria, a friendly team member showed me the way. When I expressed confusion about transportation to and from the hospital, a nurse took time to explain a lesser-known bus route. One person even stopped to show me some options of places near the unit where I could have private conversations.

After surgery, Lawson, our nurse for the next few days, was extraordinary—warm, attentive, and consistently present. It’s hard to fully express how much his care meant during what was an otherwise difficult time.

As someone who works with organizations on culture and leadership, I found myself noticing how the team operated. It was clear that we didn’t just luck out with good people; we found a good culture, one that permeated every interaction.

I could see it in how team members spoke with each other, in the pride they took in their work, and in how they engaged with patients and families. The values posted on the wall weren’t just posters. The actions listed there were actually lived.

That’s what a strong work culture looks like. It’s what happens when people are connected to purpose, when leaders support their teams, and when values are more than words on a wall.

And here’s what I know from my work: that kind of culture doesn’t happen by accident. It’s built, intentionally and consistently, at every level of an organization.

I’m grateful beyond words to Lawson and the whole team. They reminded me, in the most personal way possible, why this work matters—and the profound impact it has on everyone it touches.

She had stepped in it. Again. In a recent coaching session, a client shared that she had reacted to someone’s behavior w...
05/21/2026

She had stepped in it. Again.

In a recent coaching session, a client shared that she had reacted to someone’s behavior with anger.

Over time, she had learned how to manage disagreements with coworkers. This time, the other person was her parent. And she wanted to understand why the tools she had developed disappeared the moment she walked through the door to her childhood home.

It’s a great question. And she’s far from alone.

Last week, I facilitated a webinar on “Navigating Difficult Conversations about Aging” for the NC chapter of the National Association of Social Workers. Over 300 people attended, and what struck me was that more than half weren’t just there for their clients. They were also there for themselves.

We explored both how to have these conversations and why they feel so much harder with family.

Two things stood out as especially different from workplace conversations.

1. The weight of history. Family conversations carry decades of dynamics, roles, patterns, and unresolved friction. The sibling who always wanted to make the decisions. The child who never felt heard. The spouse who didn’t speak up. That history shapes how we show up at the kitchen table, how every word lands, and how we interpret each moment.

2. The particular challenges of aging. These conversations unearth what many of us try hard to avoid: loss of autonomy, physical decline, mortality, identity, and anticipatory grief. That’s a lot to hold, and even the most skilled communicators can find themselves flooded in ways they don’t expect.

So what helps?

Many of the same tools that work professionally also apply here:

🔹Focus on connection before content. We often rush into these conversations because they feel urgent. Yet even with family, the relationship has to come first. We need to build trust and emotional safety before diving into the hard stuff.

🔹Attend to emotions. Name and make space for the feelings in the room. Conversations about aging often touch on core identity, and sharp reactions can hint at something more significant below the surface.

🔹Acknowledge the layers. Be aware of the family history, patterns, and complexity. Understanding and sometimes naming those reactions can help you respond to what’s actually happening instead of reacting to historical patterns.

🔹Stay curious. Even when you are certain you are right, others may feel just as sure of their own answers. Ask genuine questions. Seek to understand before trying to be heard. The goal isn’t to win; it’s to navigate the conversation together.

🔹Take a pause when you need one. Emotions may run high. Take time to slow down: step back, breathe, process, and re-center.

These family conversations are hard. Yet, we can bring the same intentionality and skill we strive to develop at work—and layer in a little extra grace for ourselves and the people we love. The tools don’t disappear. Sometimes we just need a reminder to bring them home with us.

“They are having trouble agreeing on next steps. I’d like you to mediate a quick conversation with them to resolve it.” ...
05/12/2026

“They are having trouble agreeing on next steps. I’d like you to mediate a quick conversation with them to resolve it.”

I hear similar requests regularly. And almost every time, the real issue runs much deeper than “agreeing on next steps.”

I understand the impulse to solve issues quickly. Conflict can feel uncomfortable. It disrupts the team and distracts from the work, and most people prefer to avoid the resulting tension. So, we often search for the quickest path through: a hallway chat, a single meeting, or a band-aid that ultimately doesn’t stick.

And yet, complex issues, especially those involving trust, rarely resolve in a single conversation. What looks like a disagreement about one specific issue is often deeply layered with unspoken assumptions, eroded trust, misread intentions, and accumulated frustrations.

This past week, before bringing two leaders together to resolve an issue, I started by meeting individually with each person to establish a rapport, lay the groundwork for the process, build enough safety for honest conversation, and spark curiosity about the other’s perspective. Both mistrusted the other’s intentions. Both made assumptions about the other’s behaviors. Both were frustrated by how the other communicated. And yet, they wanted the same things: to be heard and understood, to work better together, and to move the work forward.

When we then met together, we named what was really happening, explored the impact of each person’s behavior on the other, and identified what they each needed to move forward as a team.

They are in a much better space now. The shift didn’t happen overnight, and it didn’t happen in a single joint conversation. Instead, through a restorative approach, they engaged in a process grounded in deep listening, respect, honest dialogue, and accountability. And they left with tools and practices they can draw on long after the end of our work together.

Real resolution takes time. It asks us to resist the pull toward the quick and tidy answer. To stay curious about what’s underneath. To slow down enough to understand the whole picture, including the history, the assumptions, and the unmet needs. And then to engage in the deeper conversations to repair, restore, and rebuild.

He thought he was being so careful. When picking up the rental car, he scanned every inch and photographed each scratch,...
05/07/2026

He thought he was being so careful. When picking up the rental car, he scanned every inch and photographed each scratch, as he didn’t want to get stuck paying for damage that wasn’t his.

Then, after a sight-seeing stop, he returned to the car and found a massive dent on the back left side.

Seriously? Who hits a car and drives away without even leaving a note? He spent the next several days worrying about the cost of the damage, wondering if the parking lot had security cameras, and drafting conversations with the rental company—all while trying to focus on enjoying his vacation.

Then, while packing up, he noticed the original rental agreement. The damage section clearly documented an existing large dent on the back left side. He was shocked. How could he have missed it? He went through his photos from day one, and sure enough, the dent was plainly visible in one of the pictures, just above the scratches he’d been so focused on capturing.

When he told me his story, I thought about how often we do the same thing at work.

We enter a situation with an idea of what we expect to find. We ask questions designed to confirm what we think we already know. We find evidence that supports our hypothesis, and we don’t notice other, possibly conflicting data. We consistently scan for scratches and inadvertently ignore the much bigger dents.

That is how real problems remain unresolved. A leader assumes the problem is a particular employee when the real issue is trust and team dynamics. A manager rolls out a new communication protocol when the real issue is that people don’t feel safe speaking up. Team members blame each other when the real issue is role clarity. An organization implements a new performance review process when the real issue is that managers lack the skills or confidence to have honest conversations with their direct reports.

What if we approached challenges with curiosity first? What if we asked open-ended questions with the honest intent to learn? What if we were willing to be surprised, and even proven wrong, by what we find?

Dents don’t disappear just because we don’t notice them. And, when we slow down, zoom out, and approach each situation with openness and curiosity, we have a real opportunity to solve what’s actually broken.

I’m curious where you’ve found real dents once you stopped looking for scratches!

Just before a conflict resolution session, one participant approached me and said, “After this conversation, I want your...
04/21/2026

Just before a conflict resolution session, one participant approached me and said, “After this conversation, I want your honest assessment. If you think we can fix it, great, but if this is unresolvable, I’ll move on.”

I paused, sitting with the weight of his statement.

Conflict is hard. And when it feels too hard, we look for exits.

It’s much easier to walk away than to stay in a difficult conversation. It’s much more convenient to label an issue “unsolvable” than to examine the people (ourselves included!) who are tangled up in it. And it is much easier to assign blame than to take honest accountability for the ways our own actions, however unintentional, may have contributed to the breakdown.

It’s hard to tell colleagues how they’ve hurt or frustrated us. It’s hard to be vulnerable enough to acknowledge where we’ve fallen short. It’s hard to sit in the same room with someone we’re in conflict with and figure out a path forward—together.

And yet, if we want to resolve what’s broken, if we want to do our best work, and if we want to build relationships and teams that can weather hard moments, we have to choose to engage.

I don’t bring the solution, and I don’t bring judgement. I bring structure, process, and the conditions for real conversations to happen. Every issue is resolvable—if each person comes to the table willing to engage, listen deeply, take accountability, and potentially change their behavior.

The question is not whether conflict can be resolved.

It’s whether we’re willing to do the work.

Last week was a painful one. A simple, ordinary movement, the kind we make a hundred times a day, led to excruciating ba...
04/14/2026

Last week was a painful one. A simple, ordinary movement, the kind we make a hundred times a day, led to excruciating back pain that rivaled childbirth and sent me first to urgent care and then to the emergency room for additional testing.

By the end of that first day, I was medicated, still in pain, and utterly exhausted. The tests had shown nothing substantive—a few inconsequential, incidental findings.

The physician came into the room and pointed to one of those minor findings. “This is likely causing the pain,” he said. “You should follow up with a specialist.”

I just wanted to go home, so I didn’t push back. Then, the next morning, I reviewed my chart, and it stated emphatically that the diagnosis was the incidental finding. Now slightly rested and back in my own space, I began to question that conclusive assessment. Yes, I was still in significant pain. Yes, it was in the right vicinity. It’s just that the finding had seemed insignificant, the onset of pain was sudden, and the diagnosis felt more convenient than certain.

The experience made me reflect on how deeply we seek certainty and answers. Research shows that we avoid ambiguity so intensely that we’ll choose a clear, riskier option over an uncertain one with potentially better outcomes. We are wired to want to resolve the unknown, even when the unknown hasn’t finished revealing itself.

I also thought about how often I notice that tendency in workplaces. Clients and colleagues speak with conviction, even when the full picture isn’t there. It just feels better to have the answer. We provide confident predictions without substantive information. We make the call before we have all the data. We assign blame before we understand the full story. We move forward on assumptions that we’ve quietly promoted to facts. And, perhaps most problematic of all, we stop asking questions the moment we have what feels like the solution.

A week later, I have more, and better, answers. My primary care physician reviewed the course of events and suspected that the issue might be muscular. She asked for additional reviews of the findings, and everything was deemed benign and insignificant. She suggested a visit to physical therapy, during which the therapist noticed that something was off, made some adjustments, and gave me exercises to support my recovery. While the pain is still there, it is already much improved, and I feel that things are moving in the right direction.

While I hold no hard feelings to anyone on my care team, the experience was a vivid reminder:

Decisiveness does not always yield accuracy.
Confidence does not always signify truth.
And sometimes the body, like a good team, just needs someone willing to say, “I’m not sure yet” and then to ask more questions.

“How do we eliminate all this ambiguity?” A participant asked that question in a recent workshop on navigating uncertain...
04/08/2026

“How do we eliminate all this ambiguity?” A participant asked that question in a recent workshop on navigating uncertainty, and the room went quiet. Honestly, I felt it, too.

We’re in a season of intense change, and it’s not ending any time soon. Leaders and team members are navigating shifting roles, new technologies, restructures, reduced budgets, and job loss. And uncertainty is just as present in politics, economics, and our personal lives.

When things feel tenuous, many of us default to a threat response—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. And those responses, while human, can make things harder for us and our teams.

So, the question becomes:
𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗲𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝘆?

While the answer isn’t simple, it is actionable. We can shift how we think, how we make decisions, how we communicate, and how we show up.

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗪𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸

When the future seems unclear, we often try to shoulder the burden alone, cling to what’s familiar, or focus on worst-case scenarios. That mindset fuels stress, limits our creativity, and fosters pessimism.

When we face uncertainty together, stay open to multiple possibilities, and recognize both the challenging reality and future potential, we expand our ability to adapt and move forward with intention.

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗪𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲

In the midst of constant change, we can get pulled into the swirl—rushing decisions, frequently changing direction, and focusing energy on areas we can’t control. That approach erodes trust, drains capacity, and reduces effectiveness.

We make stronger decisions when we anchor to what doesn’t change, including our mission, values, and strategic priorities. From there, we can focus on what we can control, invite input, engage in scenario planning, and revisit decisions as conditions shift.

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗪𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲

In times of ambiguity, we often hesitate and share less, offer vague messages, or avoid uncomfortable questions. Yet, when communication is limited, people fill in the gaps, often with worst-case assumptions.

We build trust when we are transparent and clear. That means communicating consistently, naming what we know, what we don’t know, and what comes next, even when the message is incomplete.

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗪𝗲 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗨𝗽

In an attempt to stay positive, we may avoid talking about the effects of change and uncertainty. Yet, ignoring the impact and emotions can feel invalidating.

Through team meetings, 1:1’s, and everyday interactions, we can create space for team members to reflect. Ask, “What has been hardest about the changes for you?” And then genuinely listen. Those moments help people feel heard, supported, and more able to navigate what’s ahead.

So no, we can’t eliminate ambiguity. But we can learn how to navigate it more effectively. By thinking more flexibly, making intentional decisions, communicating transparently, and supporting each other, we create the conditions for people to stay engaged, connected, and able to move forward together.

I rushed to the airport after a full workday. Then, my flight was delayed. Once we finally boarded, we sat and waited fo...
04/01/2026

I rushed to the airport after a full workday. Then, my flight was delayed.

Once we finally boarded, we sat and waited for clearance to join the line for takeoff. And when we finally landed, we sat on the tarmac, waiting for a gate.

I didn’t get to my hotel until after 11 p.m. Then, at 12:30 a.m., I was jolted awake by a neighbor, who talked loudly in the hallway and then played music in their room until after 2 a.m.

The next day, I was exhausted. And I was definitely not at my best. I was less patient, less focused, and even a bit testy.

And still, I expected myself to perform as if I were well-rested and at 100% capacity.

That’s what many of us do. We try to leave everything at the door, push through, and perform at a high level no matter what’s going on in our lives.

It’s just not realistic. As humans, our capacity shifts based on what we’re carrying. And it’s important to acknowledge that limit—and to give ourselves grace.

At the same time, our team members are likely carrying their own burdens, and we may not understand what’s happening beneath the surface. The colleague who seems short may have been up all night with a sick child. The team member who misses a detail may be navigating a family crisis. The person who snaps at you may be worried about losing their home or car.

And still, we often move quickly to label the person or the behavior: unprofessional, rude, disengaged, or difficult. We sometimes fill in the story in ways that are incomplete, unfair, or entirely wrong.

The reality is that most people are doing the best they can with what they’re navigating in that moment.

That doesn’t mean that we should lower expectations or ignore the impact of harmful behavior. It does mean that we should lead with more curiosity before jumping to judgement.

Consider: What might be happening that I don’t yet know or understand?

So, before we criticize others for an inadvertent mistake or a snarky comment or behavior, let’s lead with, “How are you doing?” And then, “What can I do to support you?”

When we make space for our own humanity, it’s much easier to extend compassion to others. And when we pause to recognize the humanity in others, we create opportunities for understanding, support, and a healthy workplace culture.

A few weeks ago, my dad had a stroke. I awoke to 16 texts, and in an instant, everything else faded into the background....
03/24/2026

A few weeks ago, my dad had a stroke.

I awoke to 16 texts, and in an instant, everything else faded into the background.

Thankfully, my dad has since made a full recovery. And still, the experience was frightening and deeply unsettling.

That first morning, as my mom and I sat with my dad in his hospital room, I kept thinking about how quickly an ordinary moment can become anything but ordinary—and how fast our perspective can shift.

Moments like that remind us of something we often ignore: we don’t control the timeline. While we can plan, prepare, and organize our lives, we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

Since then, I’ve thought a lot about what truly matters. For me, it always circles back to people—and to the choices we make every day.

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲.
Do we invest in people and moments that are important to us, or do we stay busy with activities that don’t deepen our lives?

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝗽.
Are we present, patient, and thoughtful, or are we distracted, rushed, and going through the motions?

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲.
Do we share appreciation, care, and love, or do we assume there will be another time?

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲.
Do we address the harms we witness, or do we accept problematic behaviors and dynamics?

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱.
Do we strive to positively impact the lives of people around us, or do we focus on our own needs and goals?

Experiences like that may not significantly change our lives. Even if they do, once the initial shock fades, we often drift back into old patterns.

And yet, if we are intentional, we can continue to choose differently.
We can reach out to people we care about, even when we are busy.
We can be fully present, even when we feel pulled elsewhere.
We can say the words we’ve been meaning to say, even when it feels awkward.
We can address what is problematic, even when it’s uncomfortable.
And we can be kind and empower others so that each person can thrive.

I’m incredibly grateful that my dad is doing well. And I’m also grateful for the reminder.

None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. Yet we do get to decide how we show up today.

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