Or when you try your hardest to open up to someone and somehow feel like you're bothering them or they rather be elsewhere
And you suddenly have this little voice in your head telling you that opening up is a mistake
Since then every time you're about to speak up, that voice is there again
I don't know if this is better or worse, but I actually shut up myself because my friends had worse problems. I had good grades, my parents loved me, my future seemed decently bright, and everyone said I was smart and talented. Some even called me pretty. My friends didn't have what I had. So I thought I had no right to complain. I actually starting having mild mental breakdowns and panic attacks, but it took a long time to actually tell anyone because they had it worse and I thought I was being a whiny little bitch. But eventually, I did open up. I started telling my one friend who has divorced parents, grades on the edge of failing, and severe self-esteem issues about why I never complained, and actually had her tell me that no one is supposed to face things alone and my problems were valid. Since then, I have started talking a lot more and my mental health has mostly stabilized.
The thing is depression doesn't care about those things you listed. It only cares about finding that one thing you hate about yourself, then screaming into a megaphone made of every moment you've felt unworthy. It plays it on the movie screen behind your eyes when you're in bed trying to navigate that place between awake and asleep. The only way to fight the shape shifting fog that it is, is to do what you did and talk about it and put a face to it, because you can fight what you can see and you can scream at something that has a name.
And you suddenly have this little voice in your head telling you that opening up is a mistake
Since then every time you're about to speak up, that voice is there again