Coming Out

Every Chinese New Year - my then beloved brand of smokes - Marlboro always release a series cool CNY cigarette boxes. Being a designer and a smoker, I collected them all. I mean come on, it is nice, no? I'd stash them all in my desk drawer, all properly aligned.

In 2002, Marlboro released their second series of CNY special edition boxes and off I go collecting all of them again. In total - including those from the previous year - I had 16 boxes altogether. Which my mom discovered while she was looking for a ruler.

Mother will always freak out, "MMMMEEEENNNGGG!!!!" she yelled, "WHO'S IS THIS??!"

I was cutting my toe nails near the computer table, "Ummm, they're mine,"

"YOU SMOKE AH?!"

At that time, I was 19, "Yeah mom, I smoke," I admit and immediately got paralyzed, "But, but I did not smoke all of those. Some are my friends'. I just took it from them to keep the box," I mean come on, I can't smoke 10 boxes in a day.

Of course, I would not get off the hook so easily. I faced the music. While my dad just remained at the couch, watching his CNN. He doesn't look pissed at all. In fact, the look on his face suggest, "I so saw that coming."

And since we were in such a confessing mood, I spill out more, "I also drink copious amounts of alcohol when there's a party or sometimes just for fun. On top of that, I've came home super drunk on so many occasions. Ask dad, he saw me once!"

Dad stood up and ran to the balcony. Dad knows me better than he wants me to know.

I think I almost gave my mom a heart-attack. It sounded like as if my everyday life evolves around smoking and drinking alcohol. Which it isn't. For the alcohol bit. Smoking yeah, everyday. Sigh. But I felt as a young adult, I should come clean.

Which is weird. Cos this year, after just having a stick, mom was knocking at my door to borrow some stationary. For some reason, when you're a designer, people just expect your room to be perpetually stocked with stationaries and art supplies, "What's that smell?" she asks.

"I just had a smoke." I answered and reached into my jeans pocket and took out the pack.

She held up my Mild Seven Lights pack, "You smoke?!"

"Err yeah? Didn't I told you that before?"

Dad shows up, peeking behind from my Mom's shoulders, "What's going on?"

I thought, why not, just in case Dad forgot too, "Dad, I smoke."

"Oh," and he walks away. Of course he remembers. Jeez.

After the lecture (again) mom advised me to quit and gave me a nasty guilt-trip. Like I've failed her as a son. But honestly, thru the course of my smoking life. I've always been in and out of the quitting game. To the point I realize, quitting is easy. Very easy in fact. Most people think it's the hardest thing to do. But it really isn't if you think about it. All you do is stop buying, throw all your lighters away and don't smoke.

However, the real hard part is how you handle the relapse.
As most people aren't prepared for this. That in most cases, the cravings will never entirely go away, it will always resurface now and then. No matter how many years you've stop. And that there's always, always an excuse to light up. If there isn't, you'd make one up anyway.

I need to learn how to deal with that. The relapse.