If you know me in “real” (scare quotes because what’s real, even, in this day and age?) life or read this blog, you almost certainly know that I’m a LEGO superfan. Those little plastic bricks aided me as I recovered from a brain injury; they’ve distracted me during long hospitalizations; they’ve rewired neurons fried from seizures (a statement I 100% can’t back up with scientific evidence, though I assume it’s at least partially true 🤞). Most of all, they’ve provided me with so much distraction, entertainment, and joy. As a bonus, modern-day LEGO—the really expensive stuff designed for adults, anyway—is aesthetically pleasing and makes great household decor. What’s not to love?
LEGO has also played a key role in how I’ve managed this latest health setback. More than once, I’ve reminded myself that my access to large, complicated LEGO sets relies on my ability to continue making progress in the community. It says something, I guess, about my relationship with LEGO that the threat of losing it is often just what I need to stop being complacent and start pushing even harder to keep building the life I want for myself.
A life in which LEGO will no doubt feature very prominently.