Some challenges I never asked for. Others I seem to volunteer for. And apparently, I enjoy them.

Taking on challenges has become something I genuinely enjoy. Learning new programs, figuring out technology, and exploring things I’ve never done before are now part of everyday life.

Who spends a lifetime using a Windows laptop and then drops it like a hot potato to buy a MacBook Air, knowing perfectly well there’s going to be a learning curve? Apparently, that’s me.

That poor Windows laptop hasn’t been opened since I fell in love with my Mac.

A few years ago, enjoying challenges wasn’t something I would have used to describe myself. It seemed like a more recent discovery. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder whether that was true.

Perhaps this part of me has been here all along.

Health challenges have been part of my life since childhood, both physically and mentally. Unexpected surgeries, complications, and uncertain predictions about the future have sometimes made life look very different from what I’d imagined.

A hysterectomy at forty came with the thought that another twenty years might be all I could hope for. Twenty-eight years later, here I am.

Then came my stroke.

Losing so much of my vocabulary and struggling with cognitive difficulties changed nearly everything about communicating and learning. At one point, someone told me my recovery had gone as far as it was going to go.

For a while, I began to believe it.

But something inside wasn’t willing to accept that answer. Looking back, it feels like an inner child who kept saying, No, you are not going to tell me this is as far as I can get.

Recovery had its ups and downs. Moving forward sometimes seemed almost impossible. Eventually, it became clear that continuing to learn and improve would require finding my own way. No one could do that work for me.

My right hand presented another challenge. There was a time when holding a pen or turning a doorknob wasn’t possible. Reconstructive surgery and recovery eventually opened the door to doing things I loved again.

Look at me now, typing away on a keyboard, writing, and creating all kinds of art and mixed-media projects.

Eighteen years after my stroke, the learning continues.

And that brings me back to the challenges I choose today.

When two surgeries became necessary this year, there was a decision to make. Have one, recover completely, and then face the second several months later?

That didn’t appeal to me.

Finally regaining strength and energy, only to begin another recovery, felt like a tease. Working my way back toward familiar routines just to set them aside again wasn’t something I wanted to stretch across several more months.

So the question became whether the surgeries could be scheduled as close together as the surgeons would allow. Six weeks apart.

The first surgery turned out to be more complicated than expected, and one surgeon suggested allowing more recovery time before the hip replacement. Once we knew it was safe to go ahead, I still wanted to keep the surgeries close together.

It wasn’t about proving how much could be endured. It was about knowing how I wanted to approach the months ahead.

Looking at these experiences together has brought an unexpected realization.

The challenges life presented weren’t always a choice. But how to respond to them often was. Somewhere along the way, the stamina to keep learning, adapting, and trying another approach had been developing.

Now some challenges are chosen simply for the pleasure of discovering what might be learned.

There’s a certain excitement in that. Frustration still happens. The computer may get closed, and there may be a moment of wondering what possessed me to take on something new. But chances are, it won’t stay closed for long.

Waiting for life to walk up and announce, “Here I am. Take care of me,” isn’t how I want to live.

There are still things to explore, things to learn, and possibilities I haven’t even considered yet.

It never occurred to me that I’d been practicing for this most of my life.