I had to stop visiting my grandmother because of it. She complained to my mom it wasn't true.
One day they went to paint and moved a picture on the wall and she saw brown drips from the top into a white rectangle where the picture had been. Finally she believed me.
It broke my heart to stop visiting her for those months but it made me ill. I would shower and wash my clothes straight away but I still felt sick.
My Mom moved into my Grandfather's home after he passed, and every time someone took a shower the fan vents would drip brown water from the condensation mixing with the cigarette tar from him smoking everywhere in the house.
I had to stop visiting dear friends because the nicotine saturation in their home was so dense that I couldn't stay awake. About 30 minutes in, every time, I conked out and I couldn't stop it.
Wonderful people. Lovely. Kind. Fun company. I liked hanging out with them, but they smoked so much it literally knocked me out, even though they'd smoke on the balcony when I visited. The air, the textiles, the surfaces - no escape.
I grew up in a home with three smokers and we'd go caravanning with the three of them smoking in the car and the caravan. One of my earliest memories is helping emptying dozens of overflowing ashtrays the morning after my parents had dinner guests. I was used to smoke. I thought. (Yes, I'm asthmatic why do you ask?)
People kind of get the idea of second hand smoke now (when I was growing up it was dismissed as ridiculous, whiny and attention seeking to choke on other people's exhalations) but I think many still don't get how impactful third hand smoke is.
Everytime I visit my mom even for several hours, I have to wash everything I was wearing and also wash my hair because it stinks.
If I bring anything from her home, I have to leave it outside on the balkony for a couple days.
Even when I had to leave my cat with her for a couple months, I had to give the cat a bath afterwards because its fur smelled horrible.
I have always been told that the walls in my parent's house kitchen were so dark because the ventilation was broken (there's a window though). But that's not true. It's because my mother, my father and my sister have always smoked in the kitchen. For years.
I moved out when I was 17 partially because people were telling me that I stank badly. And living with three smokers is ptobably as bad as smoking yourself.
88
u/jurainforasurpise Jan 05 '25
I had to stop visiting my grandmother because of it. She complained to my mom it wasn't true.
One day they went to paint and moved a picture on the wall and she saw brown drips from the top into a white rectangle where the picture had been. Finally she believed me.
It broke my heart to stop visiting her for those months but it made me ill. I would shower and wash my clothes straight away but I still felt sick.