The Cognitive Load Crisis

Attention is scarce and most software wastes it

A Renaissance-style scene of five figures in quiet study, each with a visible mental progress bar above their head—some nearly full, others drained—capturing the invisible weight of cognitive load in modern software.
A Renaissance-style scene of five figures in quiet study, each with a visible mental progress bar above their head—some nearly full, others drained—capturing the invisible weight of cognitive load in modern software.
A Renaissance-style scene of five figures in quiet study, each with a visible mental progress bar above their head—some nearly full, others drained—capturing the invisible weight of cognitive load in modern software.

Users don’t quit software because it’s missing a feature. They quit because it’s exhausting. And the digital world is a pretty exhausting place right now.

People start their day surrounded by noise—email clients, messaging apps, note-taking tools, screen recorders, music players, social media feeds, and dozens of browser tabs all vying for their attention. Before they even open your product, their mental bandwidth is under pressure.

Every interface demands mental effort. Each decision drains a bit of a user’s focus. And there’s only so much to go around. Imagine a mental progress bar floating above each user’s head. With every unnecessary step, that bar fills. Once it maxes out, performance drops. The user disengages. Not because the software didn’t work, but because it asked too much in their saturated environment.

Cognitive load refers to the mental bandwidth required to complete a task. And like physical fatigue, mental fatigue compounds over time. One bloated interaction might be manageable. Dozens stacked across a workday? That’s where the real damage happens.

The science backs this up. Research in cognitive psychology shows that humans can only juggle a limited amount of information at once. Our brains can't handle clicking through cluttered interfaces, juggling modal windows, and memorizing nested menu paths all at once. When software overwhelms the brain’s short-term memory, people stop thinking about the task and start thinking about the tool. That’s the moment productivity dies.

You’ve seen it firsthand. Opening an app to create a simple task list to get hit with a dozen irrelevant toggles—priority levels, labels, dependencies, calendar syncs, automation rules. All you wanted was to jot down a few items. Now you're stuck managing the tool instead of managing the work.

CRMs, dashboards, scheduling tools, even note-taking apps suffer the same disease. Endless options. Unnecessary friction. Interfaces designed around features instead of focus. The result is always the same: user fatigue.

And fatigue kills adoption. Not just in the moment, but permanently. A mentally draining tool is one people avoid. They stop logging in. They revert to email. They build spreadsheets. They look for simpler alternatives.

This friction isn’t just a UX issue. It’s a business issue. If your software exists to drive productivity and instead creates drag, that’s a direct hit to the company’s output. Multiply that by a team of 10. Or 1,000. Overload doesn’t scale—it breaks.

On a larger scale, cognitive overload erodes the promise of capitalism itself. The entire system depends on productive individuals using tools to create value. But when the tools drain more energy than they save, progress stalls. Mental friction compounds across organizations and industries, slowing down decision-making, collaboration, and output. In a knowledge economy, attention is capital. And poorly designed software wastes it at scale.

The answer isn’t more features. It’s less friction.

Minimizing cognitive load means simplifying by design. That doesn’t mean dumbing things down. It means surfacing only what’s essential, exactly when it’s needed—and nothing more.

One of the most effective ways to do this is through progressive disclosure.

Progressive disclosure keeps the user focused by showing only the most critical information or actions upfront, while deferring advanced or rarely used options to secondary views. This design principle mirrors how people naturally process information—they want to start simple, build confidence, and only dive deeper when necessary. By revealing complexity gradually, you reduce the user’s initial cognitive burden while still providing depth for those who seek it.

Consider a form to create a new customer. Instead of displaying every possible field—from tags to tax settings—start with the essentials: name, company, contact details. Then offer an “Advanced Options” link or expandable section for additional inputs. Users who need more can access it, but those who don’t stay focused and in flow.

This approach doesn’t remove functionality. It respects context. It keeps users oriented. And it gives them control over how much mental effort to invest at each step. Great interfaces feel simple, not because they lack depth, but because they reveal it with precision.

Applying progressive disclosure to software is more of an art than a science. You can easily get it wrong by arbitrarily hiding critical functionality. What matters most is an understanding of the user's context, goals, and needs. I plan to write more on this topic in following articles to help you build better user interfaces. Stay tuned!

Every design decision either adds or subtracts cognitive weight. Good tools feel invisible because they stay out of the user’s way. Bad tools feel like a second job.

In the digital economy, attention is a finite resource. Every unnecessary click or confusing step chips away at a company’s most valuable resource: its people’s focus.

Designing for cognitive ease isn’t optional. It’s the new baseline. If users are mentally taxed every time they log in, they won’t stick around.

The best tools don’t just function—they get out of the way. They conserve attention and return energy. The best user interfaces seem invisible.

Build those, and users will follow.

Andrew Coyle sitting in a building overlooking downtown San Francisco.
Andrew Coyle sitting in a building overlooking downtown San Francisco.

Written by Andrew Coyle

Andrew Coyle is a Y Combinator alum, a former co-founder of Hey Healthcare (YC S19), and was Flexport's founding designer. He also worked as an interaction designer at Google and Intuit. He is currently the head of product design at Distro (YC S24), an enterprise sales AI company.