Eric "Brickwall" Decker

“I can’t do it.”

Yet.

“I don’t have it.”

Yet.

“I’m not that person.”

Yet.

You aren’t found.

You’re built.

You don’t discover yourself.

You forge yourself.

Day by day.

Rep by rep.

Brick by brick.

No one hands you anything.

You earn it.

So add the word yet to every doubt.

Because yet means the story isn’t over.

Yet means you’re still building.

Yet means there’s more in the tank.

Keep going.

And one day the yet will disappear.

We tell ourselves we’re waiting for the perfect moment.

When things settle down.

When we feel more prepared.

When we feel “ready.”

So we wait.

But readiness is a mirage.

You never feel ready—not for the big things.

Not for the meaningful things.

Not for the things that actually change you.

There will always be something left to learn.

A little more money to save.

A little more confidence to build.

But the road doesn’t reward the one who waits.

It rewards the one who steps onto it.

So yes—prepare. But only up to a point.

Then?

Walk into the arena.

Let the bruises teach you.

Let the lessons shape you.

Let the work make you ready.

Because you don’t become ready before the moment.

You become ready because of it.

We spend too much time worrying about the no.

The rejection. The closed doors.

But that fear of “no” leads to hesitation. To seeking safety. To mediocrity.

You’re not here for that.

Do it for the yes.

Do it for the enthusiastic yes—the ones who see you, believe in you, and are fired up to ride with you.

Don’t let a “no” stop you from finding a “yes.”

Because every no just clears the path for the right yes.

It’s easy to think the new app, device, or system will finally make things click.

A new task manager.

A new smartwatch.

A new “productivity method.”

We chase tools because tools feel like progress.

They give us the impression of momentum.

But the tool isn’t the work.

The work is sitting down and making something—even when it’s messy, slow, and imperfect.

Tools are multipliers.

They multiply what you already are.

If you’re consistent, they make you more efficient.

If you’re not, they make you better at hiding.

The key is identity.

Identity drives choices.

Choices drive behavior.

Behavior produces outcomes.

Tools only amplify what’s already happening.

So before upgrading your gear…

Upgrade yourself:

Be someone who shows up.

Be someone who finishes.

Be someone who builds.

Then—and only then—the tool becomes useful.

Don’t look for tools to save you.

Look for tools to amplify the person you’ve already chosen to be.

We all do it.

We mess up, then swing the pendulum too far the other way.

Overeat, then swear off food groups entirely.

Overspend, then go full minimalist.

Get too lenient with the kids, then go full drill sergeant.

(Or vice versa.)

Overcorrection feels like control. Like you’re taking back power.

But it’s not control—it’s chaos. Because soon enough, you’ll swing back again.

It becomes a cycle—from one extreme to the next—two sides of the same coin.

Think of those motorcycle games at the arcade. Lean too far to one side? You fly off the road. But with small, steady movements? You stay in the race.

That’s life.

That’s growth.

Correct—don’t overcorrect.

Small shifts. Micro-adjustments. Steady hands on the wheel.

Think finesse, not force.

And win the race.

November 5th, 1955.

A man hit his head and had a vision.

That’s the story, anyway.

But here’s the real message:

You don’t need lightning.

You need work.

The future isn’t something that happens to you.

It’s something you build.

Every rep.

Every late night.

Every choice.

That’s your flux capacitor.

That’s what makes time travel possible.

You can’t skip ahead to the life you want.

You have to earn your way there.

Brick by brick.

Day by day.

Work non-stop toward what you want.

Stay locked in when others drift.

While they’re waiting for their “moment,” you’re making yours.

The secret isn’t speed.

It’s consistency.

It’s direction.

It’s perseverance.

It’s building the machine and firing it up—every damn day.

The flux capacitor isn’t magic.

It’s commitment.

So get to work.

And make your future worth traveling to.

Everyone says they’re “waiting for the right time.”

But waiting is a weight.

It builds resistance the longer you hold it.

Every day you delay, the idea grows heavier.

Doubt adds plates.

Fear locks the bar.

The right time doesn’t show up—you build it.

You clear the bench, bear down, and start pressing under imperfect conditions.

Because movement creates momentum, and momentum kills fear.

Waiting feels safe, but it’s just stagnation disguised as strategy.

Don’t wait—lift, build, write, ship, love.

Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.

The longer you wait, the heavier it gets.

Lift now.

You don’t have unlimited time.

You don’t have unlimited space.

Tough decisions need to be made.

What’s actually worth your time and space?

What are you holding onto that’s weighing you down?

You need to prune your life like a tree—cut back what’s overgrown, what’s dead, what’s stealing the light.

It sounds counterintuitive, but you need to let go to gain.

Give more to the things that matter.

Get rid of the things that don’t.

It’s the only way forward.

Every time you’re around your kids, you’re on stage.

And they’re watching.

They see how you handle stress.

They see how you talk to their mother.

They see how you react when things go wrong.

They see if you quit, complain, or keep moving forward.

You might not think they’re paying attention—but they are.

You’re the main character in the story that’s shaping their lives.

So what story are you performing?

The Fall? Where the protagonist gives up, blames others, and settles for mediocrity?

Or The Forge? Where the protagonist leads with strength, humility, and consistency—no matter how tough it gets?

They don’t need perfection.

They need a real model of what it looks like to rise again after a fall.

To keep fighting. To keep building.

Because one day, they’ll be on stage too.

And the script they follow might just be the one you wrote.

A friend got laid off recently.

Blindsided. No warning. Just gone.

Her story isn’t rare—and it’s been happening throughout history.

Your job isn’t safe.

Things change, and fast.

Ask a blacksmith in 1910.

A newspaper editor in 2005.

A taxi driver in 2015.

Whole industries rise, peak, and vanish.

You have to be ready.

Reskill. Retool. Stay nimble. Build backups.

Maybe even create your own job.

Because one thing’s for sure—you need to create your own security.

Your company may care about you…until it doesn’t. Until it can’t.

So watch out for #1.

You.