Wait, it’s over? Already? Or: F*ck Scarcity

By Jen Pastiloff I’m on the plane. I have Game of Thrones on in front of me, paused on…

Persister.

Hi, it’s Jen Pastiloff here. I never blog on the site anymore but here I am in New York,…

Turn on The Light, Mother F*%cker. Post Italy Blog.

By Jen Pastiloff I don’t blog often here on the site anymore but I wanted to share about my…

The Aleksander Scholarship Fund.

The answer to why some of us have to experience such pain in this life is a non-answer. There is no answer or platitude. Everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Donate if you feel inspired to.

Getting Older is Everything. Don’t Believe The Lies. A Message To Young Women on Jen Pastiloff’s Bday.

I was terrified of getting older. In my 20’s I lied and said I was younger. When I was 28, I said I was 25.

I thought once I turned 30 I would be useless. Read that again: useless.

You Really Should Be Skinnier

Don’t comment on my body or my face or if I am smiling. Don’t ask me if I am pregnant unless you see me giving birth or you know for sure. Don’t offer unsolicited advice about how I can be more beautiful or perfect or womanly or successful. Unless I ask you, zip it, Dude. Zip it.

You’re Enough. Don’t Be An Asshole & Go Forgetting That.

By Jen Pastiloff As you know if you follow me on social media or come to my workshops etc,…

Lying to Ourselves.

I think we lie to ourselves to survive.

The Truth About Depression. No Bullshit.

  By Jen Pastiloff I just got back from leading a beautiful retreat for Mother’s Day. I feel hung…

What Happens When Justin Timberlake & 25,000 Fans Sing Happy Birthday To a Boy With Autism?

Hey there! Jen Pastiloff here, I’m the founder of The Manifest-Station. Marika, the author of this piece, won a spot at…

Depression is a Duplicitous Asshole.

by Angela Giles Patel Everyone battles something. Some of these battles are episodic and some rage over the course…

Hogtied Heart

The first time I heard blues played live I was 21 and too-soon worldly. But I was unprepared for how that particular genre of music could twist its way into soft tissue, seep into cells.

Forgiving Mom…Finally

A few days after his funeral, my mother sent me away, not to mourn but to have fun at the Jersey Shore where my cousins had a bungalow. I was never asked if I wanted to go; I know I would have preferred to stay at home.

Pay Me In Attention

I know he is doing this because he’s drunk. I know he probably kissed Annemarie this same way just a few minutes ago. I know she’s the honey I taste.

I Could Have Run a Railroad

Like a good first-born child, I took to my martyrd.om like worker bee to queen. I dove in and let it define me

Find My

You’ll turn seventy three a week from this morning.

You like to joke about death, especially now, including me in the bargain.

“G’night,” I might say. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hope so,” you’ll say.

When the Mothers Are Gone, When the Mothers Return

I am trapped at home with my 14-year-old daughter during a virus outbreak. This pandemic is forcing us on lockdown but we aren’t as quarantined as our Navajo neighbors to the north.

Follow Me

In the dream he shook with anger, opening his mouth and screaming in silence – sweat dripped across his brow, the veins at his temples throbbed with each beat of his racing heart.  She woke so startled it took a few moments to catch her breath.

Sleep Training

I had not called my mother “mommy,” like you call me, for more than three decades, but I called her that as she died.

The Curious Case of Russell Wilson and the Toilet Ambush

I also have movies in my mind of Russell swatting dingers at the tournament’s home run derby. Then he swatted me like a heavy bag, with my pants around my ankles.

Perspective

Don’t think about how much you want to get in your car like you did when you were twenty-three and drive down the highway until your gas bleeds half dry, then drive back just for the hell of it.

American Flags

The thin paper dome surrounding my sheltered world began to shred, and as the rip widened, I stuck my head through and looked around. What a vast, complex world I’d just woken up to!

Remaking Bodies

No one will ever know the me before. The one that loved all-night sex with the lights on. The one who had smooth lines and a mother’s belly. Now, I’m just covered in scars.

AND HERE WE ARE AGAIN, DANGLING

I want to kick myself. I let my guard down. Maybe I just love him too much. The problem with loving someone who disappears all the time is not that they let you down, it’s that you let yourself down.

Gravel

Manya had forgotten the sound of the ocean. That thrumming like an endless world-size heart, hurling the water onto the sand and then, repentant, taking it back.