06/29/2025
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐๐ ๐๐ก๐๐ฆ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅโ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐จ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐๐ ๐๐๐ซ
Mikayla Raines should still be here.
The founder of Save A Fox (https://www.facebook.com/SaveAFoxRescue/), Mikayla devoted her life to rescuing domestic foxesโthose discarded by fur farms, trapped in backyards, or failed by humans who never shouldโve had them in the first place. She gave them more than shelter. She gave them joy. Freedom. Love.
And she gave us a window into that world, sharing the laughter of zoomies, the soft trust of cuddles, and the silent healing that comes when a wounded animal learns to feel safe again.
But while she was rescuing them, no one was rescuing her.
Mikayla died by su***de on Friday June 20, 2025. She was only 29 years old.
Behind her, she leaves not just a legacy of compassionโbut a daughter. A child now growing up without her mother. A husband, Ethan, who loved her with a fierce, unwavering heart. A community of foxes who knew her touch, and countless lives touched by her presence.
And now, grief sits where joy once lived.
๐๐จ๐ญ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐ฌ ๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ฅ๐
Yes, Mikayla struggled with depression. Yes, she was open about her neurodivergence. But what helped break her spirit wasnโt just internalโit was the relentless, escalating cruelty hurled at her online.
Cruelty from strangers. From animal rescue peers. From people who once smiled to her face while sharpening daggers behind the scenes.
Not everyone who harms does it with direct insults. Some do it with snide posts. Quiet group chats. Withholding support. Petty rivalries disguised as โaccountability.โ
They broke her.
And the worst part? This isnโt rare. This happens everywhereโon every platform. In every community. Including ours.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐๐ฌ ๐๐ก๐จ ๐๐๐ฏ๐ ๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ข๐ง๐ค๐ข๐ง๐
Rescuers like Mikayla donโt just save animalsโthey shoulder the horrors that most people turn away from. Dead kits. Broken limbs. Starved bodies. Betrayed trust. They are on-call emotionally, physically, and spirituallyโalways.
There are no real vacations. No sick days. No off-switch when your lifeโs work is literally keeping something alive.
And while they carry the weight of othersโ cruelty, abuse, and neglect, where is their lifeline?
Who shows up for them when the trauma piles too high? When the comments turn cruel? When the gratitude runs dry and the armchair critics come in swinging?
They are drowning in the ugliness of this world, and somehow weโve told them to smile through it or โhandle it better.โ
They donโt need to handle it better. We need to stop breaking them.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฌ ๐จ๐ง ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐๐ก๐๐ง ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ญ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ง๐๐ฌ
You laughed.You shared the jokes.You made your comments, passed along the gossip, clicked โlikeโ on the posts that cut her downโthen shrugged and moved on with your day.
But she didnโt.
She carried it. Every word. Every whisper. Every coward hiding behind a screen thinking cruelty didnโt count if it was subtle. Or if it was funny. Or if everyone else was doing it too.
And now sheโs gone.
Her husband wakes up to silence where her voice used to be.He moves through the house they built together, where everything reminds him of herโbut sheโs no longer there.Thereโs no more โgood morning,โ no more shared plans, no more future.
And their daughter? She will grow up without her mother.Sheโll ask questions no child should have to ask, and no one will have answers that make any of it make sense.
You wonโt be the one explaining that to her.You wonโt be the one living in that empty house.You wonโt be the one holding your breath every time you hear a laugh that sounds almost like hers and realize, again, that sheโs never coming back.
But you helped build that grief.
Whether you meant to or not. Whether you spoke it aloud or cloaked it in sarcasmโyou helped.
Words hurt people.They donโt disappear after you hit โsend.โ They donโt vanish when the comment thread dies. They linger. They infect. They isolate. And when someoneโs already drowning, your words can become the weight that drags them under.
She heard them all. She carried them. And they helped push her past the breaking point.
The ones who mocked her, ridiculed her, and tore her downโyou know who you are.
She didnโt just โlose a battle.โ She was worn down by people who thought cruelty was clever and kindness was weakness. Bit by bit. Post by post. Word by word. Until she was too exhausted to keep going.
Now a child is growing up without a mother. A man is left holding the pieces of a life that should still be whole. And for what?
Because someone needed to feel superior? Because someone thought their bitterness was justified?
If you donโt have anything rooted in care or compassionโplease! Just shut the hell up. Because next time, someoneโs life might depend on your silence being golden
๐๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ข๐ซ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฌ
This isn't such a distant story. This happens in our own spaces. In the so-called โlightworkerโ communities. In spiritual groups. witch groups, In art collectives. In rescue networks. In places that preach love but practice cruelty the moment someone dares to shine.
Weโve all seen it. Maybe weโve even felt it. And maybe, just maybeโweโve stayed quiet because it wasnโt happening to us.
But look where that silence got us.
Theyโre Not Built to Withstand Your Cruelty
Rescuers. Advocates. Healers. Creators. The ones who show up when no one else will. They are not bulletproof.
They are not public property.
They are not immune to pain just because they help others.
They are tired. They are traumatized. They are trying to survive in a world that takes and takesโand then dares to critique the way they give.
So give them grace. Theyโve more than earned it.
They donโt need to be tougher. They need to be protected.
And the people who did this to Mikayla? Who kept poking, jabbing, tearing down, and then acted shocked when the breaking point came?
Shame on you. Deep, irrevocable shame. You donโt get to scrub your hands now. You made this bed. And a beautiful soul is gone because of it.
๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐ซ ๐๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐๐ง๐๐, ๐๐จ๐ญ ๐๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐ญ
Mikayla Raines was light. She was laughter. She was a balm for the broken things.
Let her memory do what her death could notโwake us up.
Let it remind us that kindness must be louder. That silence can be condoning. That jealousy, gossip, and passive cruelty destroy real lives.
Let it remind us that it takes nothing to be kind and everything when weโre not.
So if you care about animalsโฆ care about the people saving them, too.
If you claim to walk a spiritual pathโฆ remember that compassion isnโt selective.
And if youโre someone who feels too broken to keep goingโplease, please stay. The world is darker without people like you.
๐๐๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฒ, ๐๐ข๐ค๐๐ฒ๐ฅ๐.
๐๐๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ฑ๐๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฎ๐ข๐๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐๐ซ ๐ฆ๐จ๐จ๐ง๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ.
๐๐๐ฒ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ก๐ญ๐๐ซ ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฏ๐ ๐ฐ๐๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐.
๐๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ฒ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ง๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐๐ ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐จ๐ค๐๐ง ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ก๐จ๐ง๐จ๐ซ ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ง. ๐ฆ
