2019 – A Trifecta of Triumph

What a year! It’s been filled with trials, tribulations, and triumphs of a seriously epic nature. Even for a life lived in construction, which usually means every day is an adventure.

It started with a drive to Melbourne to collect not one, but two monsters. They look like Rhodesian Ridgebacks but they are monsters. They turned one year old in October, but in January, they were small(ish), and cute, and cuddly. Puppy cuddles are the best thing ever. And while I was dealing with that, it was announced I was awarded one of the Top Ten Women to Watch, for YMag, in 2019.

Baby Monsters

I could say I was consumed with adoration for my new baby puppies, which is still true, but I was also… Uncertain how to deal with this.

I’d won a truckload of awards previously, but always within my industry, my workplace, my comfort zone. This was not. It was public, judged by women, and made me sound… Amazing. Not something I am used to. In my world being amazing was how I operated every day and was expected. It wasn’t celebrated. Maybe applauded on occasion.

So I kind of ignored it. I told people, and I was excited, but that was about it. Next, I was invited to talk in India at an incredible conference and everything was booked. Going to see the Taj Mahal has been a goal for my engineering heart forever…. Yes, I’m nerdy that way. Love a well designed and constructed building. And then… You could see that coming right? Less than a week out from the flight, I was rushed to emergency and has my gall bladder and a few floating stones removed. 7mm in size – I don’t do anything by halves! No wonder it hurt. So that plan got squished and I had 6 weeks to do very little but think and recover. Not great for someone who lives life at full tilt.

I am trying to offer my experience and skills as a mentor and coach to other women, because I really want to show women they don’t have to let circumstances of their life rule their outcomes, and so I took the opportunity to be featured in the next two YMag releases, one of which was as a cover girl (, another very weird episode in this year’s adventures. Again, not something that I fully realised would be so confronting until I saw my face all over social media… Again and again and again…!

I was mentoring a wonderful and successful businesswoman as part of my NAWIC contributions and she also happens to be the VP of the Australian chapter. She felt I should apply for the Qld awards for all my efforts in the Industry, and gave me pause for thought.

What better way to reach the women I want to mentor, to showcase the potential of a career in construction, to lead by example than to be recognised by my peers. I did enter and that led me to be awarded the Crystal Vision trophy against a field of very worthy fellow finalists. I was so proud of this award because I felt I had earned this one many times over in 30 years of service and shit shoveling.

Life was pretty good, and I had another speaking engagement for the YFactor experience and so of course, life punched down. The day before my baby girl, my not-quite-one-year-old doggo nearly died from an allergic reaction. I got her to the vets just in time, and don’t ask me any more details as the speeds were highly illegal and dangerous) but then had to make the decision to leave her brother with her at the vets all weekend for monitoring while I prepared myself to wow women with wondrous words on stage. While experiencing mum guilt for the first time ever in my life. How any women gets past the crippling guilt of leaving their child (and mine was four-legged, not like I’d personally popped this one myself) and doing anything in the world is truly award-worthy!

By now I was getting used to the “social leverage” of this kind of event, so I did make some waves about the Crystal Vision Award and embraced being fabulous just a little more.

And then… Less than a few weeks ago, I won another award. This one was even further outside of my experience again, and the category was one that received the highest amount of nominees, so you imagine my pleasure at being in the top five. You can imagine my surprise when it was my name that was read out as gold, winner. First. Fearless Educator.

And I feel like that truly sums me up. Fearless. Educator. It goes to my brand of #GladiatHER, the warrior women who go after what they want, who live out loud, who make noise, make waves, and take no shit. Who holds out a hand to another woman and lifts them up because they know what it is like to be alone, to be a forerunner, to be a disruptor, to not have support.

So now I am roaring my success and making it all about you next year. I have been told by friends they plan to beat my record in 2020. I hope so. I want them to.

And I will offer my guidance, experience, my multi-award- winning knowledge, to support them in any way. To make sure they exceed my achievement. Because if I can do it, so can they. I believe in them, probably even more than I have believed in me sometimes. And I believe in me pretty strongly. After all, I have a trio of triumph from this year to remind me how seriously amazingly awesome I have become. A trilogy of trophies. A triplet of testimonials. A triumph of tenacity. A true testament to overcoming trials.

And 2020 is going to huge for me. This is just the beginning of me making sure the world knows I am ready to be louder, bigger, brighter, bolder, and even more successful. Because what else is it all for but to inspire you to do your best?

Becky Paroz

Because what else is it all for but to inspire you to do your best?

Fluff Mentoring New Year

The Writer versus Pain

must write have to write need to write,  write write write, right? #wordvomit #bingewriting  

It’s hungry and the only way to feed it is to pour the words out, vomit and explode them into the page as fast as you can before the ideas the language the colour the flow, it goes 

It must be captured in that moment because it is beauty it is fleeting it is pure it is perfect   It flows.  

A torrent of picture described in 26 characters and punctuation! A emotional upheaval via ideal twist, a niche observance, and marketing wizardry splitting of the dross of daily writing from the rare jewel like brilliant moments where the intersection of subject matter knowledge intersects with creative/explosive epiphany while keeping in perfect alignmenty goodness with world vision, characters and plot arcs planned… 

It is a sublime and spectacular events that is like a super-blood-redpunkblue-closertotheearththanever before moon it so rarely can happen.  

Except then your gall ball removal uncorks the genie of words and you have them ALL THE TIMES. All of them. All of the times. Like the time you’re sleeping. Muse/bitch wakes you up to tell you that storyline that you just plotted, what if you changed the order?  If you did this and this and this and did it this way…. 

About to hit yes on a phone call, but Muse-y warrior gets all dictator on your ass and demands you write that sentence down, finish that paragraph because if you don’t get it down now…. 

She doesn’t give two shits if it’s your boss. Or client. Or your editor.  

WRITE WRITE WRITE RIGHT NOW 

She is the storm.  

The writer is exhausted because they are but the side effects of the battle between the Muse, so eloquent, so voluble, so verbose, so needy, so won’t shut up, versus the Pain. Sorry THE PAIN… 

The pain of arthritis, that never-ever-ever-ending-friend who won’t ever fucking leave and the pain of the gallstone passed both conspire to keep the Writer down resting and  

ssshhhh….. Now. If arthritis is the nanna who sit y your side knitting and telling you sage avice that is completely useless and unhelpful and you just wish she would fuck right off, then PAIN is her teenage grand-daughter who is overindulged by nanna and can do no wrong.  She is all about expression.  She is a cunt. 

The Writer also conspires by doing dumb shit like interacting with her 2 Ridgebacks puppies, which do as puppies do, and jump and clump and pull and push. The writer keeps thinking that today it won’t hurt. The writer is a genius in every other way but cannot stop doing dumb shit when the body says nooooo.  

The Writer and Arthritis have been in a war /friendszone relationship for over 25 years now. They know battle lines, actions versus reactions and how the other thinks acts and breaths. Besties.  At least the familiar and the known.  

But the new player Ghost of Gall Stone Passed has bought back an old player.   

And old player pushed off the chess board or at least blocked like a rook in a corner… until now.  

PAIN IS BACK BITCHES and she has more piercings than ever. Cranking the apolcayptic-Scottish-death-metal-with-monk-chanting-punk-mixup banshee noise she calls music, PAIN strides in, her docs and oversized safety pins clanking, kicks a chair into place and says  

(look away now children or the easily offended)  

OI CUNT. IM BACK. YOURE A FUCKINGLAMEASSMOTHERFUCKER AINT YA 

POOR PRICK SUX TO BE YOU RIGHT NOW 

I’M NOT HERE TO MAKE IT ANY BETTER…. 

and then she switches tone and get down real low in your ear and you’re lying there as the Writer and you’re starting to sweat and not writhe in pain already given and the anticipation of a fresh batch in any form in any place will be a searing poker stabbed between two ribs stirring something deep within.  

Will it be a twitch that spasms but not at regular intervals so you can’t plan and you can’t win and you can sleep and you cannot be comfortable?  Will be a searing stab inside the lining of your bones?   

As PAIN leans in, her lips practically touching your ear and she stage whispers… 

If you won’t stay still I will fuck you up. I will fuck you up so bad and so many ways you will wish for death. I will do things to you that you can’t describe and then I will make it worse. Do not mess with us.  

The Writer sees the other Evil Bitch in this horror story, knitting needles held ready to defend….who?  the Writer is not sure what, or who, the needles are for and fear overcomes…  

They have formed an alliance, PAIN and Arthritis. The punk teenager with a gift for pain and the old lady who is as deadly with her knitting needles as she is with her tongue and her inability to shut up about my joints; they are now A TEAM. A formidable army of ineptitude, inability and sanctioned violence upon the body of the Writer.  

The Ghost of Gall Stone Passed howls with laughter’s that echoes down tomb like halls and the cold stone hallways to finally reach the heart of the Writer.  The maniacal cackle echoes around hollowly, sounding like lost dreams… lost time… lost words… 

It is suddenly chilly, lonely, deserted, creepy, malignant, eerie, and echo-y. The Writer is alone with the Ghouls suddenly and aware that there needs to be caution… 

The Writer is willing, please no more I will be good I will rest I will remind to myself and I will accept what you are trying to tell me.  

The Writer tries to makes deals with the Devils, or the Angels, never sure which, and pleads that being good will return good favour from them all.  Please? 

The Muse stirs…. 

Fluff Writing