8 things only highly intelligent people find exhausting, according to psychology

We don’t talk enough about the flip side of a fast brain: the quiet fatigue that comes from living in a world designed for speed, noise, and constant reaction.

If you’ve ever ended a perfectly normal day feeling wrung out for reasons you can’t name, this one’s for you.

Below are eight things that consistently drain bright minds—and what to do about each.

1. Small talk that never turns into real talk

Do you ever leave a conversation having spent twenty minutes swapping weather reports and weekend plans, only to think, That could’ve been an email—if emails did chit-chat?

Depth is oxygen for a lot of us.

We don’t mind warming up with pleasantries; we just want a bridge to something meaningful: how someone solved a thorny problem, what they’re learning, what they’re afraid to try next.

As Susan Cain has said, “There’s zero correlation between being the best talker and having the best ideas.”

Quick fix: Seed the shift.

Ask, “What’s something you’re curious about lately?” or “What problem are you chewing on?”

If the context truly calls for lightness (the elevator, the check-out line), give yourself permission to save your energy for later.

2. Constant context-switching

Quote time, because it’s worth memorizing: Cal Newport defines deep work as “the act of focusing without distraction on a cognitively demanding task.”

That state is rocket fuel for complex thinking—and the enemy of it is a calendar sliced into confetti.

I learned this the hard way as a former financial analyst juggling five models, three meetings, and an inbox blinking like a slot machine.

The work wasn’t impossible; the switching was.

Every hop creates attention residue—your mind keeps a ghost tab open from the last thing.

Quick fix: Batch by brain mode.

Put similar tasks together (analysis with analysis, admin with admin).

Block notifications for 60–90 minutes and guard the window like your rent depends on it.

It often does.

3. Meetings that ignore opportunity cost

Highly intelligent people track hidden costs by instinct.

Thirty minutes spent in a status meeting that could’ve been a three-line update is not “free”—it’s half an hour you can’t spend solving, writing, designing, or learning.

When I catch myself getting prickly, I ask: What’s the objective here, and do we need the room to achieve it?

If we don’t, I’ll suggest a doc first.

It’s not about being difficult; it’s about protecting collective time.

Quick fix: Before you accept a meeting, request an agenda and success criteria.

Offer to contribute asynchronously.

If you’re leading, end early the moment the goal is met.

The respect in that signal is contagious.

4. Information overload and notification ping-pong

Herbert Simon warned us decades ago: “A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.”

In an attention-scarce world, the default is exhaustion.

It’s not just the quantity of inputs—it’s the unpredictability.

Brains burn energy anticipating interrupts.

If your phone, watch, desktop, and doorbell all think they’re your boss, your cortex never fully clocks out.

Quick fix: Turn your tech into a pull system, not a push system.

Disable non-critical alerts, bundle the rest, and decide when to check.

Create “low-noise lanes” for your most valuable relationships (VIP filters, separate communication channels).

You’re not being precious; you’re being practical.

5. Groupthink and idea roulette

Ever been in a room where the most confident voice wins by default?

Bright minds find that draining because it breaks the link between rigor and outcome.

You watch strong ideas lose to quick ones—again—and your battery dies a little.

Two moves help.

First, generate ideas solo before you meet (even five minutes).

Second, adopt a write-first, talk-second norm: brief proposals, then discussion.

That structure, backed by plenty of org-psych research, reduces dominance bias and surfaces better thinking.

Quick fix: If you can’t change the format, change your contribution.

Share a one-page pre-read, ask for a silent minute before voting, or suggest a quick “assumptions we’re making” round.

You’re not policing; you’re priming the room for clarity.

6. Environments that are loud, bright, and busy on purpose

Open offices, blaring TVs, constant chatter—the sensory tax is real.

Not because “smart equals introvert” (it doesn’t), but because heavy cognition competes for the same fuel that noise and motion consume.

On trail runs, I relish the opposite: trees, breath, the clean line of a path.

My mind comes back with solutions I couldn’t brute-force at my desk.

Quick fix: If you can’t redesign the space, redesign your bubble.

Noise-canceling headphones, a desk light you control, and a visual anchor (a plant, a window) go a long way.

Pair that with planned “focused sprints” in a quieter spot—a library, a small conference room, even your car for a call.

7. Debates with people who aren’t actually debating

I love a good argument—the kind where evidence moves the conversation.

What drains intelligent folks is the other kind: goal-post shifting, gotcha questions, and a refusal to define terms.

That’s not discourse; that’s theater.

The antidote is boundaries.

I’ll engage if we agree on the claim, the standard of evidence, and a willingness to update.

If not, I save my breath for someone who brings theirs in good faith.

Quick fix: Try, “Happy to discuss if we can agree on what would change our minds.”

No takers?

Opt out with kindness: “We see it differently. Let’s leave it there.”

Energy preserved, relationship intact.

8. Perfectionism disguised as excellence

Here’s a sneaky one.

High standards are a gift; perfectionism is a trap with excellent branding.

The former asks, What would make this great?

The latter whispers, What would make this flawless—and therefore safe?

When I catch myself polishing the same paragraph for an hour, I apply a two-question audit:

1. What problem is this solving for the reader or team?

2. What’s the smallest viable version that solves it today?

Quick fix: Decide your quality bar by context (prototype, production, public).

Time-box polish.

Ship, learn, iterate.

True excellence is iterative, not immaculate.

Bonus: Decision fatigue from tiny choices

Smart doesn’t mean infinite willpower.

Ten micro-decisions before 9 a.m. (What to wear? Which route? Which app? Which mug?) drain the same battery you need for the heavy lift.

Quick fix: Automate the trivial.

Pre-decide breakfasts.

Put your running shoes by the door.

Create “default stacks” for recurring work (a template, a checklist, a naming convention).

Save your deliberation for things that deserve it.

How to protect your brain’s best hours (without moving to a cabin)

A few habits I return to, especially on weeks that threaten to eat me alive:

• Front-load your day’s hardest cognitive task. Even thirty minutes before the swirl begins can change the arc of your day.

• Schedule recovery like a meeting. Trail run, garden weeding session, or a quiet chapter after lunch—anything that lowers noise and restores agency.

• Use “one thoughtful thing” to upgrade conversations. A question, a recommendation, a quick note that says, “I read this and thought of you.” Depth doesn’t require an hour.

• Build friction against interruptions and frictionless paths toward the work that matters. Put your most important draft one click away and your feed behind three.

If you recognized yourself in any of these, you’re not fragile—you’re tuned.

Intelligent minds do their best work under conditions that respect how thinking actually works.

We can’t always control the world, but we can absolutely shape our day.

One last question to take with you: What’s one small change you can make before tomorrow that will give your brain more oxygen?

Make that change.

Then make another next week.

Your future energy will thank you.