“I'm 3 years sober and just wanted to say. I thank you. You were a good boss and a friend and I'm sorry I let you down. You influenced or inspired me in places I wouldn't have gone. Anyways thanks for being you to me. Just thanks.” - Bret Hitchcock" In January of 2020, I received this touching text message. But the message got a darker and and deeper meaning when my friend Bret, only 42, tragically passed away from problems caused by alcohol abuse on June 4, 2023. Just over a year earlier, on February 22, 2022, I lost another friend named Joe to similar issues with alcohol. At that time, I didn't realize I was becoming depressed. It was hard to spot at first. But now, looking back, I can see that my deep sadness started after Joe's unexpected death. Given Bret's recent passing and the potential for my close friends to fall into the same pit of depression as they grapple with his sudden death, I felt compelled to share my own journey through depression. By doing so, I hope to equip my friends with insights that may help them identify potential signs of their own depression more swiftly than I did, and offer some strategies that helped me navigate through the encompassing darkness. Keep in mind that I'm no doctor, so these thoughts are merely my personal experiences, shared in the hope that they may be of some value. In the aftermath of Joe's death, I changed, though I wasn't aware of it then. Only in retrospect does it become glaringly apparent. My sleeping habits changed: I started sleeping in even later, found it challenging to fall asleep and even more difficult to stay asleep. My mornings were tinged with sadness and a sense of worthlessness. Activities I once found joy in lost their appeal. Motivation eluded me, and I yearned for the comforting refuge of my bed. However, the most dramatic change was the tension that crept into my relationship with my wife, Laken. In our near-decade together, arguments had been rare. Yet, post-Joe, trivial matters sparked disputes. I harbored an unidentifiable sadness and darkness that I clumsily offloaded onto Laken, expecting her to remedy my gloom. And when she couldn't, resentment welled up within me. It was irrational. Two weeks after Joe's demise, I had a stark realization that something was off, and changes were in order. While I hadn't identified my condition as depression and grief, I sensed an internal shift. Enter: The Year Of The Opposite On March 7th, I decided to instigate radical changes. I embarked on what I call my 'Year Of The Opposite.' The first step was imposing a news diet: I stopped watching the nightly news and purposefully avoided news sources. Amid the pandemic, I was addicted to the news. Consuming every detail about Covid policy, vaccine updates, and lockdown rules became a constant in my life. A suspicion that this habit was detrimental had been nagging at me, yet I found it hard to abstain. Additionally, I quit soda, began waking up early, adjusted my diet, and monitored my progress via the Way Of Life App. The absence of news and these other changes positively impacted my mental health almost immediately. In just a few days, I felt lighter. Nevertheless, I was still consuming alcohol and occasionally smoking weed. The positive changes that I had already experienced encouraged me to commit fully to my new path. On March 14, 2022, I quit alcohol and marijuana. I also initiated a simple 7-minute bodyweight workout every morning, guided by my Apple Watch. On March 27th, I began journaling my daily experiences and attended church for the first time in over a decade. Despite being raised Catholic, I've identified as an atheist or agnostic for most of my life. On March 29th, I retreated to the Edward Lowe Foundation for their self-guided Entrepreneur In Residence program, using the 2,000-acre wildlife preserve as a meditation retreat. Even a month into grieving Joe, I hadn't come to terms with my depression. I only felt that something wasn't quite right. Gi