Who watches the Watchmen?
I’m not entirely sure where to begin this article. For now, I at least have a catchy title. What I do know is that writing it comes from a real and personal need: to put into words thoughts and reflections that accompany me in my day-to-day work as a “change manager? facilitator?” (will we ever find expressions that are reasonable and nice to describe what we do?).
In Watchmen, among other things, there are vigilantes whom no one watches—operating in a world that may not need them or that simply prefers to ignore they exist. I like to think that this premise partly reflects a situation most of us have experienced at one time or another.
I want to talk about those of us who work accompanying and driving change in organizations. Those who facilitate transformations that rarely carry our names, who hold uncomfortable conversations, and who care for processes that aren’t always visible. But I want to do it from a somewhat particular—and personal—angle: how that in-between position affects us, and how we can inhabit it when it feels like no one looks after the people who are supposed to look after everyone else.
Those of us who have been around these waters for a while have accumulated countless tools and frameworks: Schein’s model, Kaizen, Kanban, Scrum, Scrumban, PDCAs, Katas, continuous improvement, people first, Management 3.0, moving motivators, customer centricity, business agility, non-violent communication, assertiveness, flow metrics, business metrics, delegation poker, the color ladder—repoker! All these frameworks (mind you: all models are wrong, though some are useful) are tools we use to drive change or help organizations evolve their culture, introduce operational or relational changes, or simply change the habit of drinking coffee with sugar because, well… sugar… maybe not.
We read, write documentation, think, project scenarios, imagine change—or progress—or outcomes. And we don’t just read about how to articulate change; we also have to read about the changes themselves. Are we moving from development-first to product centricity? From product centricity to customer centricity? I’ll read about it. Gitflow or trunk-based development? I’ll read about it. CI/CD, containers, IaC? I’ll read about it. Agents, vibe coding, and the whole nine yards? Waiter, another round of patatas bravas!
We document, write, review, meet, talk, act carefully, empower people, make small changes, accompany, care. We implement… but sometimes—too often—everything moves far too slowly. Or worse: like in Lampedusa’s novel, everything changes so that everything can stay the same. Sometimes things simply don’t happen, or they happen at a glacial pace, and it feels like preaching in the desert.
And that’s where I come back to the question of who takes care of us. The answer is blunt—and perhaps a little sad: no one, or very few people. We’re usually alone in organizations or part of a very small team; in the worst case, we’re a vendor—someone external, hired because the organization wants something and wants it now. In our day-to-day work, the invisible part is enormous compared to the visible part, and sometimes we can’t fully share it. We’re constantly working on language, putting ourselves in the other person’s shoes, taking care of sensitivities… but what about ours?
That’s what I wanted to write about: how to take care of ourselves in a position that, let’s be honest, is difficult and comes with its own challenges. Our goals are long-term; so are our “successes.” Many take a long time to arrive—or simply never arrive. It’s important to learn how to redefine and adjust what success means to us and to our motivations. We should avoid feeding ourselves only on the hope of a big change or a big corporate success that might never happen.
Now I want to pause on something more uncomfortable and personal: how I think we need to take care of ourselves in this role. I’m not going to reveal anything new; most of what follows we already know. The problem isn’t ignorance—it’s how easy it is to forget when you’ve been pushing for change for too long.
We have to manage frustration; it’s one of our biggest enemies. We need to read, seek community, and share experiences outside the organization. That can range from having a good network of contacts, references, and articles to simply having someone to grab a beer with and talk. We need to find complicity outside the company: attend conferences, events, share with other facilitators, train ourselves… but without becoming obsessed.
We also need to be aware of where we are and how far the organization can go. We are not the ones who decide what change a company “should” have. We shouldn’t project our ideal organization, nor impose our personal ethics or values to force the change we want. Either we treat this as a job where we go as far as the organization wants and can go, or—if that isn’t compatible with our ethics or the effort we can invest—we may need to shift our focus… or even change organizations.
Watching our energy is a daily task. We’re exposed, and if we don’t know how to stop in time, we burn out. That requires constant separation: learning to detach from underlying problems even without leaving the office. Diversifying helps; if you can, do it. Write a document on a different topic, or jump into conversations that have nothing to do with your current “single issue.” Those small alternatives bring back fresh air and a sense of control. In the end, it’s about reducing a cognitive load that sometimes suffocates us, avoiding the tunnel vision that isolates us from reality.
Finally: embrace your comfort zone.
We have a role that, by definition, is already uncomfortable. Our job—job, not mission—is to push other people out of their comfort zones; every cultural change starts there. Pretending to live permanently outside our own is a guaranteed recipe for burnout.
Embracing your comfort zone isn’t giving up—it’s surviving. Don’t push yourself to the limit all the time, don’t turn discomfort into a virtue, don’t try to live on the edge constantly. Be aware of your limits, protect them when needed, and remember you’re not a martyr of change.
Finally, we need to be aware of where our responsibility ends. Our work is about introducing or facilitating change, but it’s others who must articulate those changes, incorporate them, and ultimately make them their own. This may sound obvious, but we often forget it out of pure inertia. There is shared responsibility, and the people we work with face countless situations that prevent change from crystallizing. While we can study how to facilitate and increase the chances of success for cultural change, the final responsibility lies with others, not with us. We shouldn’t carry—no matter how difficult it may be—a process that isn’t entirely ours.
Sometimes I think of Daedalus and Icarus. Daedalus, the prolific inventor; Icarus, his beloved son, equipped with wings made of wax who flew too close to the sun, his wings melted, and he fell. We are not Icarus; we are not mythical beings—organizations sometimes are, enormous titans with their own history and mythology. We are mere mortals, just another worker, another member, and we must be aware of both our own limitations and the limitations of the organizations we work with.
We need to know how to take care of ourselves and put our well-being first. We will never touch the sun, nor should we try. Our work isn’t about flying higher than anyone else, but about knowing how far we can go without breaking ourselves.
We have a very beautiful job, a very special one. Sometimes we manage to shine a little light on organizations and almost always on ourselves. And sometimes, even if it’s hard to accept, that’s enough.
Want to know a little more about who wrote this article? 👇
Trained as a mathematician, I currently work as a Tech Mentor & Advocate at Ideable. I have over 20 years of experience in development, holding various roles: developer, Engineering Manager, CTO, and COO. Lately, I focus on supporting people and, consequently, organizational changes. Some of them even make it to production.