I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Notion. It was 2021, and I was watching one of those Thomas Frank Explains videos that made everything seem possible. One app to rule them all—notes, tasks, databases, wikis, you name it. I became that person. You know the one. The friend who wouldn't shut up about how Notion would revolutionize your life. I recommended it to colleagues, family, even my dentist. Fast forward to 2026, and here's the uncomfortable truth: I regret ever using it.
This isn't just about me being fickle. It's about discovering that the very flexibility that made Notion so appealing became its greatest weakness. It's about realizing I'd built my entire productivity system on what felt increasingly like digital quicksand. And it's about the moment in 2024 when I lost my job and had to cancel my subscription, only to discover how much I'd actually lost.
If you're considering Notion, or if you're currently knee-deep in databases and wondering if there's a better way, this is for you. I've tested the alternatives, made the mistakes, and found what actually works. Let's talk about why the honeymoon ended, and what you should know before you commit.
The Allure of Infinite Flexibility
Notion's promise was intoxicating: a blank canvas where you could build anything. No more juggling Evernote for notes, Trello for tasks, and Google Docs for documents. Everything in one place. And for a while, it delivered. I built content calendars, personal wikis, habit trackers, project dashboards—you name it. The community templates were incredible, and the ability to embed almost anything made it feel like the ultimate digital workspace.
But here's what they don't tell you about infinite flexibility: it comes with infinite decisions. Every time I opened Notion, I wasn't just working—I was architecting. Should this be a database or a page? Nested pages or linked databases? Tags or properties? The tool that promised to save me time became a time sink of its own. I was spending hours tweaking systems instead of actually using them.
Worse still, that flexibility created fragility. When you build complex interconnected systems, changing one element often breaks three others. I'd update a database property and suddenly half my linked views would stop working correctly. The very customizability that made Notion powerful made it brittle. And when you're trying to get actual work done, brittle systems are the last thing you need.
The Subscription Trap and Data Lock-in
In 2022, I upgraded to the paid plan. The AI features seemed promising, and I needed more blocks for my increasingly complex setups. What started as a free tool became a $10/month habit, then more as I added features. No big deal, right? Until 2024 hit and I lost my job.
Canceling that subscription was more than just stopping a payment. It was realizing how much of my work and life I'd stored in a system I could no longer fully access. Sure, I could still view my pages, but editing was limited. The AI features I'd come to rely on? Gone. The complex templates I'd built? Suddenly cumbersome to use with block limits.
This is the dirty secret of subscription-based productivity tools: they create dependency. Your data lives in their format, in their ecosystem. Exporting isn't as simple as downloading files—you're trying to extract interconnected databases, linked pages, and embedded content into something usable elsewhere. I spent days trying to migrate my content to other tools, only to realize much of the structure and functionality simply wouldn't translate.
The worst part? Even if you're willing to pay forever, you're at the mercy of their pricing changes and feature decisions. When Notion changed their AI pricing structure in 2025, I watched friends suddenly paying double for the same functionality. That's not just inconvenient—it's risky for anyone building serious work systems.
The Performance Problem Nobody Talks About
Here's something you won't see in the slick promotional videos: Notion gets slow. Really slow. As my workspace grew over the years, I noticed pages taking longer to load. Complex databases with multiple views and filters? Sometimes 5-10 seconds to render. On mobile? Forget about it—I'd often give up trying to quickly reference something because the app was still loading.
This isn't just an annoyance. When you're in flow state, even a two-second delay can break your concentration. When you need to quickly capture an idea, waiting for a page to load means you might lose the thought entirely. The web-based architecture that makes Notion accessible everywhere also makes it dependent on internet speed and server performance.
Compare this to native applications like Obsidian or even Apple Notes. They open instantly. They search instantly. They don't care if your internet connection is spotty. For a tool that's supposed to help you work more efficiently, these performance issues become productivity killers in disguise.
The Search and Organization Paradox
Notion's search function is... fine. But fine isn't good enough when you have thousands of notes accumulated over years. The problem is structural: when everything can be everything, finding anything becomes harder.
Is that important client meeting note a page in my work database? A subpage in my projects section? A linked mention in my daily journal? With traditional file systems or simpler note apps, you develop mental models for organization. With Notion, because you can always just link things differently later, you often don't develop consistent organization habits at all.
I've lost count of how many times I knew I'd written something in Notion but couldn't find it despite multiple search attempts. The content was there, but the relationships between pieces of information were so complex that simple keyword searches often failed. Tags helped, but then I'd have to remember which tagging system I was using for which type of content—and I had several, because I kept reinventing my organization methods.
The Mobile Experience: Promised vs. Reality
"Works perfectly across phone, PC, and tablet"—that was one of Notion's biggest selling points for me. And technically, it's true. The app exists on all platforms. But the experience? Wildly different.
The mobile app feels like a stripped-down version of the desktop experience. Complex databases are painful to navigate. Formatting often looks off. Certain actions that are simple on desktop require multiple taps on mobile. For a tool that promised seamless cross-platform work, it often felt like I was using two different applications.
This became particularly problematic when I realized how often I actually needed to work on mobile. Quick capture during commute? Difficult. Reference materials during a meeting? Slow. Editing on a tablet? Cumbersome. The promise of universal access was undercut by the reality of compromised experiences on anything but a desktop computer.
What I Switched To (And Why It Works Better)
After my Notion disillusionment, I went on what my friends called a "productivity tool pilgrimage." I tried everything. And here's what actually worked for me—not as a one-size-fits-all solution, but as a philosophy.
First, I separated concerns. Instead of one app trying to do everything, I use different tools optimized for different jobs:
- Notes and knowledge management: I switched to Obsidian. It's markdown-based, files are stored locally (with optional sync), and it's incredibly fast. The linking between notes is more elegant than Notion's, and because it's file-based, I own my data completely. No subscription required for core functionality.
- Task management: Todoist for personal tasks, ClickUp for team projects. Both are purpose-built and do their jobs better than Notion ever could as a task manager.
- Documents and collaboration: Google Docs and Sheets. Boring? Maybe. But they work flawlessly, everyone knows how to use them, and they don't try to be something they're not.
The key insight? Sometimes the best productivity system isn't a system at all—it's the right tools for the right jobs, connected by simple, reliable workflows.
The Fragility of Over-Engineering
One comment from the original Reddit thread that really resonated with me: "I spent more time building the perfect system than using it." This is the trap of tools like Notion. The possibility of creating the perfect, interconnected, automated productivity machine is so seducing that we forget the goal is actually getting things done.
I look back at my Notion heyday and realize I had created what engineers call a "single point of failure." When Notion was down (which happened more than I'd like to admit), my entire workflow collapsed. When I wanted to change one part of my system, it often required rebuilding multiple connected components.
Contrast this with my current setup: if Obsidian has an issue, my tasks are still in Todoist. If Todoist goes down, my documents are still in Google Drive. The system has redundancy and resilience precisely because it's not all in one place.
Who Should Actually Use Notion (And Who Shouldn't)
After all this criticism, let me be fair: Notion isn't inherently bad. It's just not right for everyone. Based on my experience and watching others, here's who might still benefit:
- Small teams needing simple wikis: For basic company documentation that doesn't require complex databases, Notion can work well.
- Students organizing research: The ability to link notes and create simple databases can be useful for academic work.
- People who genuinely enjoy system-building: If tweaking your productivity system is your hobby, Notion is a fantastic playground.
But you should probably avoid Notion if:
- You need reliable offline access
- You want to own your data completely
- Performance and speed are critical to your workflow
- You tend to over-engineer systems instead of using them
- You're on a tight budget and can't commit to ongoing subscriptions
Practical Migration Tips If You're Leaving
If you're convinced it's time to move on from Notion, here's how to do it without losing your mind:
- Export everything first: Use Notion's export feature to get Markdown or HTML backups before you make any changes.
- Migrate in categories: Don't try to move everything at once. Start with notes, then tasks, then databases.
- Accept that some things won't translate: Complex databases with multiple relations will need to be simplified or rethought in new tools.
- Test new workflows before fully committing: Spend a week using both systems to identify what you're actually missing.
- Consider professional help for complex migrations: If you have years of complex data, sometimes it's worth hiring someone on Fiverr who specializes in data migration rather than spending weeks on it yourself.
For physical organization that complements your digital systems, I've found that Rocketbook Smart Notebook provides a nice bridge between analog and digital, especially for brainstorming sessions that don't fit neatly into any app.
The Bigger Lesson: Tools vs. Systems
My biggest takeaway from this whole experience isn't that Notion is terrible. It's that no tool can fix broken habits or create motivation where none exists. The most elegant productivity system in the world is useless if you don't actually do the work.
What matters more than any specific app is understanding your own workflow. What do you actually need to capture? How do you best process information? What kind of reminders actually work for you? These questions are more important than whether you choose Notion, Obsidian, Roam, or a stack of index cards.
For automating some of the data gathering that might feed into your productivity system, tools like Apify can be useful for pulling information from various sources automatically. But even then, the goal should be simplifying your workflow, not adding complexity.
If I could go back to 2021 and give myself one piece of advice, it would be this: Start simple. Use the most basic tool that works. Only add complexity when you've outgrown the simple solution. And never, ever build your entire workflow on a platform you don't control.
My years as a Notion evangelist taught me that the shiniest tool isn't always the best. Sometimes, the tools that stay out of your way—that let you think and create without constant management—are the ones that actually make you productive. In 2026, I'm finally getting more done with less system. And honestly? It feels like freedom.
