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Here is a link about "walking depression" that I found amazingly perceptive:

http://www.gresik.ca/2012/03/10-signs-of-walking-depression/

Some of the things I connected with in particular:

Feeling worse in the morning and better at night.
  This was particularly true when one of my main goals of the day was a horrendous workout that I did not know if I could conquer. I tend to put a lot on my plate each day, but because I am so efficient, I often get done all my goals by about dinner time, and then in the evening I can "veg." Sometimes I am catatonic by then, but at least all the little things on my daily list are checked off.

Simmering resentment against people I was supposedly "helping."
  Giving myself permission to say "no" more often was the cure to this, and working on pushing away guilt on a regular basis. I have had to cultivate some serious self-protective behaviors, including not answering the phone at times, and spending some time each night giving myself silent compliments on things that I find actually admirable, not stupid stuff or things that in fact increase my self-alienation.

Feeling distanced from people around me, since after all I was lying to them by not telling them how I really was feeling.
  As painful as it was, I had to go to people and tell them directly how miserable I really was and what they needed to do to accept that my feelings were real. I had to insist that they not ignore my feelings, even if it was tempting for them to assume I wasn't that seriously depressed because I was still functional.

And also the reasons that it took a long time for me to seek help:

It didn't seem like I was as depressed as other people were, since I was still getting up in the morning and doing my work.
  Nonetheless, the number of times a day that I would think about how great it would be to be dead was a pretty serious warning signal. I don't think I would ever have allowed myself to act on those fantasies, because my sense of responsibility to my family is just too strong, but it was scary that I had the fantasies at all.

Pride about being strong was going to take a hit.
  There was something that seemed delicious about being invincible and never needing medication. That had to go. So did the idea that I didn't need professional therapy. I did, and I have before and I will probably again. Maybe everyone who is actually healthy already knows this and has no problem admitting it.

Realizing that I was going to have to change and that was going to take a lot of work.
  This was the biggest barrier to me. Part of my depression was caused by the realization that my relationships were not as great as I had thought they were, but the more depressed I was, the more impossible it seemed to deal with the enormous work that fixing them would require. Give me a list of concrete tasks to accomplish, and I'm right there. I can do them fast and well. But the more difficult emotional work of relationships is so amorphous and changeable and well, let's admit it, emotional. I am always trying to circumvent that.

Realizing that I was secretly angry at everyone close to me in my life (however fair that was) and that was going to be painful to deal with.
  Some of the people in my life were to blame for this in larger degree than others, but it is still true that I can get angry when I think about how some of the most destructive behaviors were those of people who simply found it easier and more convenient to believe that I was doing fine when I think if they had bothered to look even a tiny bit closer, they would have known it wasn't. Yes, I was pushing away their concern sometimes. But at other times, they ran away from the first hint of it, terrified of the depth of my despair. People are weak and they don't want to feel bad with you. Very few people in my life could handle me talking about how I really felt on a regular basis. I get it. They are human. But it still hurt. One of my major ongoing tasks is to accept the anger and let it go.
 
 
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