Stigma: The opinion of others about me. I really don't care what people think about me. This is who I am now, for better or worse. It is not necessarily who I will be tomorrow, the next day, next month, etc. When I first started down the slippery slope of PTSD, anxiety and depression I was concerned. That quickly gave way to indiference, and even amusement at times. Watching people recoil when they noticed I was behaving "diferently" than others. To me, it's their problem, not mine. I still have a lot to offer people and society, I just have fewer windows of opportunity to express it. I fully expect PTSD to severly affect me for some time to come, but I am still hopefull that "someday"(tm) it will get better, and I may even conquer it before my deathbed.
A few days ago after my last visit to my shrink, I was feeling particularly anxious. I decided to pick up some Mtn. Dew and Doritoz as a reward for me. I didn't do anything particularly noteworth, but I just felt like I needed a pick-me-up. It was also an invivo(sp?) challenge I gave myself. As I was walking around the store I had a severe tick going on in my neck. I kept flexing all my neck muscles hard involuntarily. This I'm sure was quite the sight. I got a lot of strange looks from people. When I got to the check out stand, my neck was still doing it's thing, and hands were shaking a lot as I put stuff on the check out counter. My hands were shaking even worse when I went to try and get the money out of my wallet, count it and give it to the cashier. I could barely count the my money. She and the bag boy exchanged looks without even trying to be descreit about it. I said "no, I'm not a druggie or alcoholic. It's my nerves". A look of relieve washed over both of them. To me it was quite comical, the whole situation.
So, in summary, Stigma is not something I worry about. It says nothing about the person with the disability, and everything about the person who holds stigma opinion of someone else.