My battle with depression (named as depression, anyway) started when I was in high school, but I know it was really well before that. My senior year of high school was one of the worst years of my life. My mom, who I lived with, moved us a half hour away from my town/high school/friends/everything I knew. Yes, I’m my senior year of high school. My father lived in a town nearby. I bounced around between them because of this. My parents were divorced and it was a horrible, bitter one at that. 

My mom told me that I was depressed and took me to get medicine. Lexapro to be exact. Let me tell you… It doesn’t work well to tell a teen that they have depression. It doesn’t work well to TELL anyone they have depression. As expected, started the meds went well. I took them a couple of times a week when the days felt particularly bad (useless since the medicine needs to be taken daily to do anything). But what the hell did my mom know? Sure, she’s battled with depression most of her life but that didn’t mean that I did too. She doesn’t know me THAT well. 
It wouldn’t be until years later that I would finally admit that I am “one of THOSE people” and that I do battle with depression. A lot of unnecessary suffering happened in that time. It took that for me to admit that I had a problem and needed to do something about it. I probably wouldn’t have made it through college if I didn’t.
I say this to say; I have been where you are. I am still where you are many days. It is an ongoing struggle but it is my goal to do anything I can to help you and people like us. We are not alone. Far from it. This project is my work to help me. You. Us. 
I hope you will join me.