Eskimo to the World

I am Trina Landlord and this is my blog. In a past life, Eskimo to the World documented my adventures in New York – where in minute everything can change. Much like my life changed when I moved from Alaska to the 'city that never sleeps'. From the biggest state in America to the most populous city in the United States. From the immaculate nature of the Chugach Mountains, Yukon River and Bering Sea to the urban tundra of sky scrapers, enclaves of business and cultural capitals and the nation's foremost trendsetters. From 'the great land' to arguably the 'greatest city on earth'. I made a 5,000 mile prodigious leap from Anchorage to New York City – AND BACK TO ALASKA. The determination of Yup’ik peoples to survive in harsh Arctic conditions had given me the foundation to survive on streets of New York, I will continue to chronicle the parallels of both worlds.
March 24

I saw myself differently than who I’ve become

The manifestation of hate, anger, guilt, shame, resentment and rage prevent me from getting out of bed, brush my teeth, make coffee, eat and go to work.

Is it possible to call in sick with symptoms of unmotivation, uninspiration, hopelessness and infinite despair? I cry for the loss of a vision; I desperately seek for an immense shift in my thinking and searching sends me into another dimension of tears from exhausted eyes.

I internalize people, places, things and situations and cannot muster the courage to accept, or release the illusion of control. I am undefined; I run away from my thoughts, people and traditions to avoid my inhibitions and insecurities.

I long for deep sleep form the fierce thoughts in my head and seek solace in the darkness. Or the other extreme, days without sleep. I waver from the irresponsibility of my actions. Perhaps, if I do not think about it, it will cease to exist in my periphery.

“Get over it….this will pass…what is wrong with you…” is what I whisper to the reflection or they yell across thousands of miles away on the telephone. For a moment the facade of “it will never happen to me” weakness faltered and I could finally see the deep, lonely ache of complete hopelessness.

I sometimes act like I am strong, but just like everyone else I bleed when I am cut. I have fears and insecurities and I will not ever have all the answers.