Leading Self-Managed Teams (Without Losing Your Mind)

Self-managed teams can be a very good thing.
They can also be a very bad thing.

I’ve worked with teams that looked incredible on paper — autonomous, experienced, self-organising — but in reality were stubborn, brittle, and quietly exhausting to lead. I’ve also worked with self-managed teams that felt like a well-oiled machine. The kind that asks the right questions, challenges each other respectfully, and gets the job done without drama.

For a long time, I thought the difference came down to talent or seniority. It doesn’t.
It comes down to clarity — and to the kind of leadership that doesn’t disappear just because a team can manage itself.

One of the most common mistakes I see leaders make with self-managed teams is assuming they don’t need the same level of attention. There’s this quiet belief that if a team is capable and independent, they’ll be fine on their own. That fewer check-ins are needed. That fewer conversations are required.

But self-managed doesn’t mean problem-free.
It doesn’t mean people stop struggling.
And it definitely doesn’t mean workload magically balances itself.

Early in my leadership journey, I struggled deeply with letting go. I wanted to help. I wanted to fix things. I wanted to step in and make the discomfort disappear — especially when someone on my team was having a hard time. It came from care, not control, but over time I realised it wasn’t actually helping.

What my team needed wasn’t a fixer. They needed space to work things through themselves, and a leader who could guide without taking over. Someone to ask the right questions, to hold the tension when things felt uncomfortable, and to be there without immediately stepping in.

That shift is harder than it sounds. Because once you stop fixing, a new anxiety creeps in: If I’m not doing, am I still adding value?

What helped me answer that question was noticing which teams actually thrived. They weren’t the ones with the most freedom. They were the ones with the clearest foundations.

Purpose and priorities, for example, can’t be self-managed. Teams shouldn’t have to guess what really matters right now or which trade-offs are acceptable. When that clarity is missing, people still work hard — just in slightly different directions. Progress looks fine on the surface, but impact quietly erodes.

The same is true for sustainability. Teams are often terrible at noticing their own overwork. The warning signs are subtle: people staying online a little later, contributing less in meetings, carrying more than they admit. Burnout doesn’t announce itself. It slips in when no one is watching closely enough.

I’ve also learned that autonomy only works when it’s built on structure first. Clear decision frameworks. Explicit role clarity. Shared understanding of who owns what, when to escalate, and what “good” actually looks like. Without that, “you’re empowered” quickly turns into “you’re on your own” — and trust starts to fracture.

These days, my leadership looks far less like directing and far more like coaching. Once you really know your team, it becomes less about having answers and more about asking the right questions for the moment. I pay attention to how things play out in public project channels, and I follow up quietly when it matters.

Sometimes that’s a private message to say, “I saw how you handled that — I’m proud of you.” Especially when it’s someone who used to be quiet and is starting to step into leadership. Other times it’s a gentle check-in when I notice someone working late or slowly withdrawing, even if they haven’t said anything out loud.

And yes, there are still moments when I step in. When situations start getting out of hand. When something crosses a line. Self-managed doesn’t mean unsupported, and it certainly doesn’t mean unprotected.

What no one really warned me about is how emotionally draining this kind of leadership can be. I feel the highs with my team — deeply. Watching people grow, take ownership, and find their voice is one of the most rewarding parts of my work. But I also feel the lows. When someone is struggling. When there’s tension. When I have to regulate my own emotions and hold myself back, even though I would happily go to war for the people I lead.

At times, it really does feel like you’re part leader, part coach, part therapist.

And that’s okay — as long as we’re honest about it.

Leading self-managed teams doesn’t mean doing less. It means doing different work. Quieter work. Emotional work. Work that doesn’t always show up on a task board or a status update.

But when it works — when the balance is right — it’s worth it. Not because it’s easy, but because it allows people to do their best work without losing themselves along the way.

And maybe, if we’re lucky, without losing our minds either.