I had just gotten out of bed when I received a message from my parents asking me to call them when I get the chance.
Knowing their previous record of sending messages only when there is a problem or when they need money for my sisters' school, I thought I would be some grand poorer before the week ends.
"Do you still smoke?", my father's voice on the phone sounded hesitant. I said, yes, a couple of sticks a day, 8 sticks max.
I felt a little strange with the question, especially, since this was the first time we ever talked about my taking to smoking. They never said anything about the first time I went home from university with a pack of cigarettes. They even bought me an ash tray.
Stammering and sounding worried, my father continued, "Well, your mother and I, we...we just thought that maybe, you should start thinking about quitting". I was shocked, but found myself saying, "I am trying. That is why I go running every now and then to naturally expel the habit. I know it is really bad for my health, so I want to quit as soon as possible".
It has been 11 years and 2 months since the first time I started inhaling nicotine down my lungs. Previous to that, I had always thought that smokers did not have half the brain most people do. It's a no-brainer how smoking kills, and yet, they never seem to care or understand. This was one of the things I thought a normal, good person would actually avoid. Ironically, it was the same belief that led me to start it. With the decision to force myself into a nasty habit, I would be redefining myself. I would be breaking free from a self-concept that was too safe, too ordinary.
Now, this juvenile attempt at being unique has taken its toll. I am stuck, and every time I think of quitting, it only makes me smoke more. I asked a friend who managed to forget about nicotine after more than 10 years of puffing at least 1 pack (20 sticks) a day. To her, it was not really a decision to quit. It was more of a consequence of her decision for a better, healthier lifestyle. It was a holistic change that made quitting cigarettes a mere collateral change. And because it was not really an object of which she had to spend a lot of energy mustering her will against, it was relatively easy. Like her, I also believe that if I focus so much on the negative, meaning by going with the personal campaign: I will not smoke again, I would still have the action smoking for this to come true. I would have nothing to negate if it did not exist. So, I thought, like my friend, I will decide something positive: I will live a healthier, happier and more exciting lifestyle. I know that when I embrace that, smoking would become passe.
"Ok. We were just concerned, with all the news, TV ads, and your sister telling us about the statistics...", my father trailed off. "Yes. I understand. I am slowly getting rid of it", I said. I realized, I was so entranced by the conversation that I only puffed twice before the cigarette I was holding burned out. I was so close to telling myself that should be the last, but I snapped out of it. I know that if I said that, I would be running counter to what I believe. It's not smoking I want to stop, it's a better life (whose explications I am attributing to what I know as the highest ideal there is about life) that I would like to start. If I am still the one who shuns contradiction, then I know that smoking does not fit in. Naturally.
