It was a recognition born of a realization.

A realization that she possessed, had always possessed, everything that she needed to survive.

She had spent her life relying on the kindness and charity of others, and while she was grateful, she was also resentful.

Resentful that they didn’t believe her capable of taking care of herself.

Resentful that she didn’t believe herself capable of standing on her own.

On her own two feet, strong, shoulders back, face full into the sun, the wind, the rain, anything that should come her way.

Strong.

On her own as a woman.

She would earn her way through blood, sweat and tears and she would be thankful for the outcome.

Cherish the outcome, because it was born of her and nobody else.

And in that moment, that day, she would feel blessed.

Not for the handouts and the pity, but for those who pushed her forward.

Pushed her to work harder, work longer, work smarter and earn every ounce of her accomplishments.

It was a realization born of a recognition.

A recognition that someone believed.