How indulging in Lego, WWE and F1 helped me understand my autism

How well do we know ourselves?

Two years ago, after encouragement from my wife and advice from my therapist, I took the autism diagnostic observation schedule assessment. Also called Ados, it's a tool used to help clinicians assess autism.

There were signs and I had my suspicions, especially during my teen years, but I hadn’t done anything about it.

After undergoing the assessment, I was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder or ASD. I am on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, meaning I can perform many tasks and appear like a neurotypical person would.

I had mixed feelings about the results. On the one hand, a lot of what I found complicated and difficult in my life suddenly made sense. On the other, I was worried about being seen as inferior, if my diagnosis was shared.

Over the past two years, I have tried to understand myself better, now that I know there is something within me that makes some things harder to do.

One thing I learnt during therapy is the concept of “masking”. This is defined as “a strategy used by some autistic people, consciously or unconsciously, to appear non-autistic in order to blend in and be more accepted in society”, according to the UK-based National Autistic Society.

I realised I probably have been masking my whole life. I now understand why I didn’t call people as often as I should have; why I avoided social interactions and events; and why I felt especially exhausted after having done any of that.

But discovering that I mask did not mean I could suddenly stop doing it. And to avoid it would mean either opening myself up fully to people I don’t necessarily trust, or withdrawing from many societal expectations, which was not really an option.

People talk about a social battery. In my case, it is a “function as normal” battery. I just need to understand how to best refill it when it runs out; how to make sure that I am doing my job well and being present for my wife and my family.

Earlier this year, I rediscovered the joy of WWE. I had watched professional wrestling in my teen years, but stopped by the time I went to university. When tuning in again, I realised I was really enjoying it. Not like I did when I was young, but as sort of a soap opera ballet.

It’s the mixture of reality and acting that makes it so engaging and fun. Seeing elite athletes perform incredible stunts all while portraying a character is incredibly enjoyable.

I had the same experience with Formula One. I had watched it with my best friend in high school, but stopped by the time I went to university. Recently, my wife was curious about the sport and we began watching every race.

Between wrestling and F1, I have been finding reliable ways to refill my battery. For a while, though, something was still missing – a daily filler, or an activity that was simple but focused. Something I could recharge with.

At the start of the current F1 season, Lego released sets of the 10 racing teams. I was intrigued. I hadn’t put together a Lego set for a long time, but my love for F1 convinced me to go ahead.

I built one. Then two. By the end of the first week, I had built five of the 10 sets and wanted to keep going. I was building one set a day, and it was giving me about an hour of serenity and the kind of focus I couldn’t get doing anything else.

Three months later, my home is full of Lego sets. I have had to apologise to my wife for suddenly taking up so much space in the house, but I'm also thankful for her understanding, enthusiasm and support.

Cracking open a new set gives me a feeling of unbridled joy. The build process calms me, so much so that I even decided to write this column while building a set. When I complete each set, there’s a sense of sadness that it’s over. But this is overshadowed by the feeling of accomplishment.

I don’t know why I wanted to put this out there for the first time. I suppose it’s partly an appreciation for the things I love that have helped me cope with the difficulties of everyday life, and partly because I needed to get it off my chest and not be afraid of sharing who I really am.

Autism isn’t a defect. It just means people who have it require a little bit more patience and understanding. The process of understanding myself better is a continuing journey, perhaps a lifelong one. For now, I’m grateful and happy to have found things that help me recognise myself every day.