About

I'm Mileena Rayne—nurse, mother, writer, and musician. I grew up in Minnesota, but I come from the kind of places you don't see on maps: fractured homes, quiet grief, and belief systems that tried to shape me into someone I wasn't. I don't create from theory or distance. I create from experience—real, raw, and lived. Everything I write, everything I sing, comes from a place that once hurt.

I didn't start creating until almost thirty. Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I was surviving. Once I started, I couldn't stop. Every lyric, every chapter, every note I play carries memory: trauma, truth, grief, clarity. I don't try to make it comfortable. I try to make it honest.

People call me "intense" a lot. And honestly, they're not wrong. I feel things deeply. I think about everything. I don't know how to pretend something's okay when it's not. That used to feel like a flaw. Now I see it as the reason I connect with people in ways that matter. It's what lets me write things that stay with people. It's what helps me show up for my patients. It's what drives me to speak up, even when it's hard.

Former Jehovah's Witness turned author and musician. I grew up being told what to believe. Now I search for the truth and write stories for other religious trauma survivors. Even when it hurts. Especially then.

I am a former Jehovah's Witness and ex-JW author writing about the realities of leaving high-control religious groups. Born into the organization, I spent my formative years in Kingdom Halls, going door-to-door in field service, and believing I had "the truth." At 18, I made the difficult decision to leave, knowing it would cost me my community, my worldview, and relationships with family members still in the organization.

That experience of religious trauma and recovery shapes everything I write. My dark fantasy novels explore themes of cult psychology, manipulation, and the courage it takes to question everything you've been taught. My music gives voice to the isolation, grief, and eventual healing that comes with leaving a high-control group.

As an ex-JW author, I write for anyone who has ever felt trapped by dogma, anyone who has questioned their faith, and anyone rebuilding their identity after leaving everything they once believed. My goal is to create stories that help other religious trauma survivors feel less alone in their journey toward authenticity and healing.

Whether through the fictional characters in my Blood of the Wild Gods series or the raw honesty in my songs about mental health, I'm committed to telling stories that validate the experiences of religious trauma survivors and offer hope for those still finding their way out of darkness.

I grew up in Minnesota with an insatiable hunger for stories. From an early age, I would disappear for hours into books, completely lost in worlds that felt more vivid and alive than anything around me. There was something magical about the way words could transport me to places where dragons soared through ancient skies and heroes discovered courage they never knew they possessed.

My dad introduced me to video games when I was young, opening yet another door to storytelling that captivated my imagination. He taught me how to lose myself in these interactive worlds, where I could not only witness epic tales unfold but actually live within them. This was where my deep love for fantasy was truly born—in those countless hours spent exploring realms that demanded both imagination and the willingness to believe in something greater than the ordinary world.

I loved fantasy because it required me to think beyond the boundaries of what seemed possible, but perhaps more importantly, because it offered refuge. In these imagined places, I could be someone else entirely, somewhere else entirely, free from the limitations and complications of my own reality.

While I was discovering these fictional worlds, the most defining aspect of my childhood was being raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, a faith tradition that shaped nearly every aspect of my identity and worldview. I spent my formative years in Kingdom Halls, going door-to-door in field service, and believing wholeheartedly that I possessed "the truth."

I left at eighteen, and that decision shattered everything I thought I knew. My entire worldview unraveled. I had to start from nothing—searching, questioning, aching for what was real. That unraveling became the root of my obsession with truth, even when it's uncomfortable. Especially when it's uncomfortable. Because after a life of being told what to believe, I needed to know what was real, no matter how painful it was to find it.

That need to process—to unravel, understand, and rebuild—eventually led me to creativity. I didn't begin writing or making music until nearly thirty. But once I did, it became clear that everything I create comes from the life I've lived. Every song, every story, is stitched with memory, survival, and scars that never quite healed.

Today, I'm a Registered Nurse and a mother to two incredible girls. I believe in honesty, even when it costs me. I'm passionate about trauma-informed care and dream of becoming a SANE nurse, a policy advocate, and an expert witness for survivors of abuse. I've learned the importance of speaking up, especially after being taught for so long to stay silent.

Some people will probably still find fault in my words, no matter how carefully I try to say them. But I'm just trying to be honest about my experiences—because I've always been this way. Maybe it makes me naïve, but I've never been good at hiding how I feel. I've always been willing to set aside my pride and say the things most people wouldn't dare say out loud. That honesty gets me in trouble sometimes, but I don't know how to be any other way. If being vulnerable helps even one person feel less alone, then maybe the discomfort is worth it.

Growing up, I found solace in stories and music. I learned piano, cello, viola, and guitar, and more recently started dabbling with violin. When the real world felt unsafe, I escaped into books and games where I could be someone else, somewhere else.

These weren't just entertainment - they were survival tools. They taught me that stories matter, that other worlds exist, and that sometimes the truest version of yourself is the one you become when no one else is watching.

My passion for trauma-informed care drives everything I do. I dream of becoming a SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner), standing in courtrooms speaking for survivors who can't, changing policy that keeps people silent, and teaching trauma-informed care as the standard, not the exception.

• One day, I hope to stand in a courtroom and speak for survivors who can't
• To change policy that keeps people silent
• To teach trauma-informed care as the standard, not the exception
• Until then—I'm writing stories, writing songs, saying the things no one else will

I believe that growth lives on the other side of discomfort. Most people spend their lives avoiding the very experiences that could transform them. I choose differently.

• Truth Over Comfort
  I don't sugarcoat pain—I translate it. My truth isn't pretty, but it's honest.
• Vulnerability as Strength
  I've always been willing to set aside my pride and say the things most people wouldn't dare say out loud.
• Emotional Intelligence as Survival
  Understanding emotions isn't a luxury—it's how you navigate a complex world with grace and wisdom.
• Art as Truth-Telling
  If my work doesn't make someone feel something real, I'm not doing my job. Comfort doesn't create change or awareness.