I grew up building. LEGO, Erector Sets, K’NEX—you name it, I engineered it. Gears, motors, pulleys, bridges. If it clicked or bolted together, I was in. But like a lot of us, I drifted away from it as I got older. Life got louder. Deadlines replaced designs. I stopped building with my hands.
Then I had kids.
And suddenly, there were bricks everywhere again—on floors, in couch cushions, in tiny fists ready to show off “the coolest T-Rex ever!” What started as playtime with my sons turned into a reawakening. Now LEGO isn’t just a hobby. It’s part of our family rhythm. It’s how we co-regulate. It’s how I find my footing when the ground shifts.
So yes—there’s a bin of LEGO bricks slightly more than one arm’s length to my left. And more than once, they’ve kept me from rage-posting in Slack, spiraling through my inbox, or mentally combusting during my fourth context-switch before lunch.
It’s not just nostalgia. It’s structure. It’s comfort. It’s regulation.
Because for neurodivergent folks—especially those in leadership—working from home can feel like freedom and cognitive quicksand at the same time. The structure disappears. The friction multiplies. Our already-overloaded brains are left trying to build systems while trapped inside them.
That’s where LEGO comes in. Not as a productivity hack. Not as a toy. But as a quietly powerful, executive-function-friendly anchor you can reach for—literally—when you start to drift.
Remote ADHD Hits Different
There’s a myth that remote work is perfect for neurodivergent brains. No open office. No sensory overload. No one side-eyeing your fidget habits.
And some of that is true.
But the flip side is darker:
- No built-in transitions.
- No reliable structure.
- No environmental cues that help your brain switch modes or settle down.
When you’re leading from home, the boundaries between thinking, doing, and feeling like a failure for not doing blur fast. Your calendar becomes a hallucination. Your Slack history starts to look like a digital stress test. And every decision—strategic or logistical—lands in the same overloaded inbox: your brain.
That’s when I reach for bricks.
Why LEGO Works for the Neurodivergent Remote Brain (or mine at least!)
It’s tactile. It’s visual. It’s low-stakes. And it gives you something rare in remote leadership: instant, self-directed progress.
Here’s what LEGO does that’s so ADHD- and autism-friendly:
- Structure with Flexibility: The instructions are there if you want them. So is free-build. You choose the constraints. That autonomy matters.
- Physical Feedback: Every brick is a click of confirmation. You’re doing something. It’s real. It’s finished.
- Low Cognitive Overhead: No logging in. No onboarding. No judgment. Just you and a satisfying, brain-calming puzzle with zero career consequences.
In other words: LEGO gives you progress without pressure. Control without collapse. Focus without force.
Desk Proximity = Game Changer
Here’s the real power move:
You don’t need to change your environment to get the benefit.
This isn’t a walk around the block. It’s not a full break or a change of scenery. It’s a pivot in your chair. It’s bricks within reach.
And that matters, because initiation is often the hardest part of any regulation strategy. But grabbing a few LEGO pieces doesn’t feel like effort. It’s frictionless. It’s right there. No one needs to give you permission.
For me, this kind of micro-engagement helps in moments like:
- The three minutes between meetings when I need to reset my tone.
- That post-lunch executive function cliff where starting anything feels impossible.
- The end of the day, when my brain is fried but still spinning, and I need to land the plane.
Sanctioned Play in Serious Roles
Let’s be real: this isn’t about pretending LEGO is work.
It’s about recognizing that play is a critical part of regulation, creativity, and problem-solving—especially for neurodivergent professionals working in abstraction-heavy environments.
Remote work lets us build our own rituals. So why not design one that actually works with our brains?
Some of mine:
- A tiny build during my lunch break to reset my nervous system.
- Five minutes of fidget-bricking before I write something emotionally difficult.
- A standing desk tray full of 2x4s, so I can physically “snap into” a thinking mode.
It’s not childish. It’s strategic.
And if you lead a remote team? You can model this.
Supporting Neurodivergent Teams (Without Treating Us Like Quirky Mascots)
If you want a resilient, creative, and honest team—especially in remote environments—you need to normalize regulation, not just productivity. And that includes tangible, tactile tools.
Here’s how:
- Put it in the onboarding: Send small build kits with welcome gear. Frame them as part of remote wellness—not a gimmick, but a grounding tool.
- Invite async participation: “Build your role,” “Model our org,” “Recreate our last incident in bricks.” People can share if they want, or not.
- Signal that breaks are strategic: Show that stepping away, fidgeting, and regulating aren’t signs of disengagement. They’re signs of staying in the game.
- Design meetings with tactile options: Invite people to build during low-verbal meetings. It helps with focus, and it’s more inclusive for folks who process nonlinearly.
The Right Kind of Control
Remote leadership can feel like an endless stream of decisions with no satisfying resolution. LEGO gives me something different: a system that responds when I engage with it. A world I can shape and complete. A moment of self-directed regulation that costs nothing and changes everything.
It’s not therapy. It’s not productivity porn. It’s a way to re-enter your day with more clarity, less shame, and maybe—just maybe—a little joy.
And that’s more than self-care. That’s infrastructure.
Build Your Own Brick Ritual: Starter Ideas
For desk micro-breaks:
- DOTS trays
- Tiny Plants
- Speed Champions (10–20 mins)
For end-of-week decompression:
- Botanical sets
- Creator 3-in-1s
- Architecture Skylines
For async team play:
- “Build your job in 10 bricks.”
- “Rebuild our last outage—make it funny.”
- “If our roadmap were a spaceship, what would it look like?”
Want to build a more human, neurodivergent-friendly remote culture?
Start with bricks. Not policy.
Your brain (and your team) might thank you.
