Am I Becoming Irrelevant?
It feels silly to write just another blogpost about how to transition to a leadership role.
Hopefully this is not a post about how to succeed in that transition. This is about how I felt every time I’ve been promoted to a leadership role. And how I haven’t been able to describe the frustration I felt.
I’m writing it down (and publishing it) as a way to process it.
I Used to Feel Relevant
It usually starts with a few years into a company. I got things done. I shipped features that mattered. Some were technically difficult, others politically delicate, and a few simply fell apart and had to be rebuilt from scratch. I knew the product inside out. I could speak the language of our users. People came to me when they needed hard problems solved.
Now I manage a team.
Some days, I don’t know what I do anymore.
My worth was defined by my output:
- Merged PRs
- Shipped features
- Firefights I could handle on my own
- Recognition that was public and immediate
Now, I spend most of my time trying to protect the team’s focus, say no to things that don’t matter, and convince smart people to work on the boring-but-important stuff.
It doesn’t feel like impact. It feels like being a buffer. A gatekeeper. A middle-layer.
I miss investing real, focused time into one hard thing. I miss the feeling of flow, of closing my laptop after a long day and knowing exactly what I achieved. And honestly? I miss being openly recognized.
Now, when something goes right, it’s because the team succeeded. That’s good, I want that. But part of me also wonders if anyone notices the invisible work that went into it.
What Am I Actually Doing All Day?
Sometimes I ask myself this in a genuine, not sarcastic, way.
I know I’m doing things that matter. I can point to them:
- I filter out noise before it ever reaches the team.
- I say no to low-leverage requests, including from people who outrank me.
- I help, and clear the fog so others can move fast and make good calls.
- I absorb tension between what others want, what the team needs, and what the product should become.
But none of that looks like a roadmap item. None of it gets demoed at the company all-hands.
There’s a fear I don’t say out loud often, but I’ll write it here:
I’ve seen managers get fired quietly for “not contributing” I don’t want to be one of them.
So when I feel underused, or like the value I bring isn’t visible, I wonder if I’m just one reorg away from being irrelevant.
I keep telling myself that enabling others is impact. That saying “no” is a kind of strategy. But some days that feels like a story I’m telling to make myself feel better. And on other days, it feels completely, absolutely true.
What I Know Is Working
Even with all this ambiguity, there are things I’m proud of:
- The team is focused. They’re not jumping between shiny distractions. Not always at least.
- They ship. Not chaotically, but deliberately, and with confidence.
- I’ve helped them grow into harder challenges, and they are.
I’m not hands-on in the code, but I’m hands-on in the conditions that allow good code to happen.
Still, I’m figuring out:
- How to measure success in this role in a way that means something to me.
- How to tell the story of my impact without needing applause.
- How to say no in a way that builds trust, not distance.
- How to be okay with the fact that the more effective I am, the less visible it often is.
Why I’m Writing This
As I said, I’m writing this for myself. I’ve ended up leaving a few companies because of this feeling. It’s time to stop running away from it.
But I’m also writing this for you. Maybe you’re feeling this too. Maybe you’re not.
Maybe you used to be the go-to builder, and now you spend your time in meetings wondering if you’re just in the way. Maybe you’re coaching, steering, absorbing, and worrying that no one sees it.
Maybe you’re saying “no” when it would be easier to say “yes,” and wondering if you’re going to pay a price for that.
If that’s you, I don’t have a fix. But I can say this:
You’re not irrelevant.
You’re just operating in a layer that doesn’t clap for itself.
And maybe, just maybe, the fact that your team is calm, focused, and shipping, while everything around them is chaotic, is the best evidence of your impact.
Even if no one’s naming it out loud.