You’ve seen the article: “How This Self-Made Millionaire Built an Empire.”
And every time I read one of these headlines, I shake my head a little—not because I don’t admire the individual accomplishment, but because… does anybody really build anything alone?

If I could go back in time and tell a younger me all that I’ve accomplished to date, I’m not sure she would believe me. I’m the youngest of four. My parents made less than $30K per year combined. I grew up in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere Missouri that was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, and I’m all too familiar with powdered milk and government cheese.

That’s a stark contrast to the life I have now. I have a job that pays well, friends I adore, I’m a first-generation college kid, and I was able to buy a brand-new car that had eight miles on it when I drove it off the lot—an accomplishment even my parents never experienced. I’m living the dream.

My mom tells me she’s proud of me. That all her kids are self-sufficient. That I did it “all on my own.” And while I’m a glutton for praise, I can’t take full credit.

Sure, we’re ultimately in charge of our own path. But I can’t help but be reminded of all the people in my life who were there along the way. You know the ones—maybe it was your seventh-grade English teacher who made you fall in love with reading and writing. Or your best friend who stayed up late with you and listened to you yap about your wildest dreams. Your parents who set money aside so you could go to school. That one professor who stayed late. That mentor, boss, coach, or investor who saw something in you that was worth believing in.

Sure, it’s a cool anecdote to say I’m “self-made,” but my biggest flex is that I didn’t have to do it alone.

So, if you ever loved me, supported me, gave me advice, believed in me, prayed for me, listened to me, or taught me—this one is for you. There are too many of you to send a fruit basket to, so you’ll have to settle for this article as my sincerest thank you.