When Complexity Becomes a Cognitive Scam
I think some people are just wired that way — they create complexity out of everything. Watches. Wardrobes. Second brains in Obsidian. Gigantic Zotero libraries. Notion workflows. Music collections. Self-hosted everything. Six devices. Eight browsers. Fifty email aliases. (You want to know how the hell the latter four even happened, here’s your recipe. Thank me later.) That was me. Well, still is, to an extent. I bet it works for some. Heck, it had “worked” for me for years. Until it didn’t. Why? Many reasons. But we’ve got to start with something, so in this post let’s start with this: complexity is exhausting.
We intuitively know that (a lot of) complexity is cognitively taxing. In a more theorized way, this can be explored in terms of several known and well-researched phenomena like decision fatigue, information overload and the Zeigarnik effect. See what I’m doing? Creating complexity just by trying to explain it. This is what I would do as an academic. But I am a recovering one. So, let’s paraphrase.
Complexity drains you. You know it. I knew it. This shit has names: decision fatigue, information overload, the Zeigarnik effect. How am I doing so far?
Complexity is too many choices. Which of the 50 email aliases do I use this time? Which of the 50 academic sources from my Zotero do I cite? Which of the 50 notes linked from this note in Obsidian do I actually need? Which of the five LP and CD pressings of this album do I keep? The list goes on. All of these choices just drain our cognitive batteries. They definitely drained mine.
Sometimes complexity is information overload. Same beast, different coat. But what is information overload, and why does it occur? As Bawden & Robinson conclude, “information overload … arises when an individual's efficiency and effectiveness in using information … is hampered by the amount of relevant, and potentially useful, information available to them” (Bawden & Robinson, 2020, p. 12). Let me paraphrase. Overload is volume. But it isn’t just that. It’s volume plus perceived value, accessibility, and the pressure to process. This is when at some level you know that the information you have demands attention. And yet, you will probably never be able to process it. At least not the way your (perfectionist) brain thinks you should. This was literally me and my Obsidian vault. And even more so, my Zotero library. (I know. Citing a source while dragging my Zotero library. The irony’s not lost on me.)
Complexity is open loops. I don’t know about other people, but for me, the more complex a system gets, the more my brain insists it needs closure — something to resolve, clarify, or act on. Even if it’s quietly sitting in my hard drive or the cloud (self hosted, of course). This is the Zeigarnik Effect in action. Our minds latch onto unfinished tasks and can’t let go. Enter persistent anxiety and overwhelm. As Psychology Today puts it: “The Zeigarnik Effect unintentionally forces our brains to dedicate more memory and attention to unfinished tasks, which results in us feeling constantly overwhelmed.” GTD-inspired advice says the remedy is to keep track of all the open loops — real, urgent, or just hypothetical. But in my case, that just meant building another complex system, “a task management system”. What helped wasn’t capturing tasks. It was killing them at the source — by nuking what they’re hiding in. There’s no nagging “sort old photos” task (which you will, of course, “get round to” someday) because you’ve bitten the bullet and rm -rf’ed the whole folder.
There are more reasons why complexity is sus at the very least, and I will discuss these in future posts. For now, let’s just say that once I went meta on my own thinking, my systems, my practices — I began to see all these issues. And the worst part? Complexity rarely does what it promises. Sometimes it does the opposite. Sometimes it distracts you from what actually matters. Usually, it’s all of the above. Automatic watches (for the most part) don’t keep good time. A/B-ing pressings in a music collection and hoarding them replaces enjoying music. “Working on” an Obsidian vault becomes an end in itself, whereas it’s supposed to be a tool that helps you produce something real. And then you also realize that it was you who created all that mess in the first place.
It took me a long time to figure this out. A lot of (wasted) time, honestly. But once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. I had to burn it down. Metaphorically. And sometimes literally. One small bite at a time. Sometimes in reckless swoops.
This blog documents that process. Part reckoning. Part rebuild. Part fire under my own ass. If any of this stings — good. You’re not alone. Welcome aboard.
Originally published: 19 June, 2025
References
Bawden, D., & Robinson, L. (2020). Information Overload: An Overview. Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.013.1360