I don’t usually like sharing too much publicly about this type of stuff, but was asked my a few people to share, so here goes. 
Long backstory in a nutshell (kinda), for those who’d like to read how I got here. 

My parents both have very intense jobs with long hours, my grandfather retired the year before I was born, and we moved into the house beside my grandparents’ less than a year after I was born. My grandfather raised me. He babysat me, took me to school, I would be around him at all times of the day. He was essentially my father. He died when I was 6 years old, and I completely closed myself off from the world because of it. I was always quiet and never wanted to meet new people, always the one to be bullied, spoken to condescendingly even by teachers. I began gaining weight early on in life, never wanting to be outside or talk to people. I felt depressed but didn’t know what depression was. It was not spoken about in my European household, almost shunned. Skipping to high school, again a lot of bullying and being an outcast, now because of how obese I was, teachers found me as a disappointment because of how little I cared about anything, but they were disappointed because they knew I had something in me and didn’t “want to” use it. I kept gaining weight, more bullying, more feelings of depression and less self-worth. Late grade 11 rolls around, I hear about depression and link what I have to it, but don’t want to accept it.  Grade 12 comes, and I am deeply depressed, but I hide it from everyone because of the stigma it has at home. I tell no one. Close to the end of grade 12, I get humiliated by my teacher in the classroom because I asked a question I didn’t understand, which was very, very rare for me to engage in any class activities. That was my last class of the day and I’m almost in tears from being laughed at. In a normal mindset this should not have been such an emotional experience, but I was deeply depressed. I decide I would like to end my life when I get home that day. There is this person who gets on the bus maybe once a month or so, randomly, and he happened to be there that day and happened to want to talk to me, which again rarely happens. I had to act like these weren’t the thoughts running through my mind, so I tried to get it together for the conversation, but once I got off the bus the emotions start rushing through me, I get home and look over a bottle of prescription pills, think over life for what felt like an hour but was probably 10, 15 minutes. I close the bottle and continue my day. If that man didn’t talk to me, I wouldn’t be here to tell this story. The depression continually gets worse, so do the suicidal thoughts. I decide to tell my parents and say I needed to quit my job because the extra stress of having to act normal was too much at the time, but they again are very money oriented and decide having a job is worth more than listening to me about depression. My job was spent alone, no phone or activities allowed, thus my mind raced to the worst places whenever I was there. I would feel physically ill walking into the store because I know I’d be alone. To continue along, I never got therapy because I didn’t want to bourdon someone with my emotions, knowing that they’re there only for the money anyways. I know this is the incorrect thought process but its one that my parents have instilled on me. I never had any medications, because of the same old mindset. I began telling them I was okay once I knew they didn’t understand where I was coming from, but then they decided to start bringing up how lazy I was around the dinner table, at Christmas, with my very strict uncle telling him that I don’t want a job and that I just want to sit at home all day. I wanted to fucking scream at everyone that I’m in agony just living, but I doubt that would have gone well, so I stayed quiet through the lecture of how to not be a lazy piece of shit. I am at the lowest of the low for years, I honestly don’t know what allowed me to hang onto life while wishing death upon myself every day, never experiencing love, without the hope of it either in my mind at the time. Death was the beacon of light in my mind, the only thing that made me happy to think about. 
OKAY time to go onto the side of coming back from the pits of hell. I began losing weight, pushing myself to try and eat less and leave my house more. I was good at card tricks from learning alone through YouTube for many years, so in college I would go up to random people and do card tricks just to try and get out of my shell and become less shy. None of these things were working instantly, but I knew they may have some effect in the future. I began learning how to play the piano, making music, even though I was awful, again I knew these things had to build up over time, and they were always a distraction from reality for when I needed it. They were fulfilling. I started deep self-reflection, like very deep. I would try to figure out the reasons behind my feelings rather than accepting them. I found faults in myself, and for each one I either accepted or changed the fault. For each one. It took many, many years of doing this, but after ~4 years of trying to improve myself, 3 of those years still being depressed, most times more than what was talked about above, I began seeing a light, but not in death. I found that once you on the deepest level accept or change every single one of your faults, there was nothing for depression to latch onto. I was released from depression after losing 120 pounds (I’m down 135 now), learning classical piano &amp; making music, making friends through really trying to expose myself to new people, going into a major I love (comp sci), and at last, being able to accept myself truly for who I am, my faults and all. The biggest part is that void in your soul going away, never to be felt again. So really what pushes you out of depression is constant self-improvement and self-acceptance, which is difficult as fuck, trust me I know.

It's late and I’m unsure how many mistakes I made, but I hope you all appreciate my story and advice, I understand that some wont, I am just sharing. 

I know you guys can do what I did though, I think anyone can. Many nights of tears will be worth the enjoyment of the rest of your lives, even if the future brings dread rather than happiness right now, know that your future self will praise you for your work and efforts that made them who they are.