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by Sofia Brontvein
Brick By Brick: How LEGO Helped Me Rebuild My Nervous System
17 Jun 2025
Image: ChatGPT x The Sandy Times
I was somewhere between a panic attack and a to-do list when I found myself obsessively sorting a pile of tiny plastic bricks by color, size, and function. Not because I needed to build anything. I just needed to breathe.
I have lived with generalised anxiety disorder for years — the kind that doesn't come and go with deadlines or stressful life events, but sits with you quietly at breakfast, joins you in meetings, and crawls into bed with you at night. It is a constant loop of worst-case scenarios, racing thoughts, and physiological responses that feel entirely disproportionate to reality. And while I have tried everything from journaling and meditation to biohacking and deep-tissue massage, nothing has soothed my brain quite like the clack of Lego bricks clicking into place.
Lego isn’t just for kids — and it is definitely not just about building spaceships or recreating Hogwarts in your living room. For me, it became an unexpectedly powerful mental health tool. A small, tactile rebellion against intrusive thoughts. A system of order when my internal world feels like chaos.
Science, it turns out, agrees. Repetitive, focused tasks that engage fine motor skills — like assembling Lego — have been shown to reduce stress and activate a state known as “flow”, a term coined by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Flow is that sweet spot where your brain is fully immersed, time melts away, and anxiety quiets down. A 2021 study in the American Journal of Occupational Therapy found that structured, hands-on creative activities significantly reduce physiological markers of anxiety — including heart rate and cortisol levels.
And according to a recent global survey by the LEGO Group, 91% of adult users reported feeling relaxed while building, and 86% said Lego helped them disconnect from work and digital distractions. That isn't just clever marketing — it is a growing recognition of mindful play as a mental health strategy.
And yes, this is anecdotal, but I swear: when I am hunched over a 1,226-piece Botanical Collection bonsai tree, I am not catastrophising. I am not spiraling. I am just… here. Counting bricks. Following instructions. Making something beautiful out of a box of chaos — which, now that I think about it, is a pretty elegant metaphor for anxiety itself.
There is also something oddly comforting about the fact that Lego comes with answers. In a world where no one seems to know what they are doing, a step-by-step instruction manual feels like a spiritual balm. I don’t have to innovate, negotiate, or interpret. I just have to trust the process. Put the green tile next to the curved hinge. Repeat.
And maybe that is what I crave most when I am anxious — structure without pressure. Creativity within boundaries. LEGO is productive but not performative. It doesn’t expect a masterpiece. It just invites you to play.
So now, when my nervous system starts to fray and my thoughts feel like a browser with 47 tabs open, I don’t reach for my phone. I reach for a box of bricks. Sometimes it is the Architecture Series (Le Corubiser is a favourite), sometimes it is a Porsche 911, sometimes it is just freestyle building without any rules. My anxiety doesn’t go away — but it gets quieter, more manageable. The volume turns down.
Mental health support doesn’t always have to be dramatic or expensive. Sometimes, it is just about finding the thing that puts your mind in a quieter place — a small ritual of focus, movement, and joy. For me, that place happens to be made out of interlocking ABS plastic.