Spirituality in the World of ClickByte: Why I Broke Up with the Algorithm

I didn’t start Cat Tarot channel for fame.
I started it because I loved tarot. I loved cats. And the stars whispered: jump in. So I did.

At first, it was everything I hoped. People resonated. The readings mattered. The connection was real.

But then… the algorithm showed up.

First it wanted long-form. Then under ten minutes. Then quick hooks, jump cuts, clickbait, and desperate pleas for subscribers. The rules changed every month, and the message was clear: it didn’t matter how thoughtful, soulful, or creative you were. What mattered was: did you please the machine?

And the machine doesn’t care about your soul.

The Enshittification of Creation

Cory Doctorow calls it enshittification: platforms start good (to attract you), then turn bad (to trap you), then get worse (to exploit you).

YouTube was once the scrappy stage where small creators thrived. Then celebrities and brands moved in, ad money took over, and suddenly your work wasn’t “content” unless it generated endless clicks.

The garbage rose to the top — outrage, controversy, nonsense. And the thoughtful creators? Silenced, buried, or burned out.

And here’s the part nobody likes to say: we adjusted. We tolerated harassment. We tolerated racism. We tolerated stalkers and lunatics in our inboxes — because clicks.

At one point, I had an American email me to say my tarot channel was responsible for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s policies. Another viewer decided a thumbnail looked too “Latina” and harassed my family, calling me “unclean.”

This is normal now. That should scare us more than the trolls themselves.

The Double Burnout

Then COVID hit, and the noise went nuclear. Everyone was online. Everyone was screaming for attention.

For someone tuned into energy, it was unbearable. The grief, the panic, the constant performing — it was like sitting in a crowded room where no one was breathing, just shouting.

I couldn’t channel in that soup. Not honestly. Not healthily.

So I burned out. Twice.
The exhaustion of intuitive labor plus the toxicity of online culture left me with what I can only call soul-fatigue.

And here’s the kicker: while the best voices went quiet, the garbage still rose.

Why I Left the Algorithm

At some point, I realized: staying meant selling out.
To keep feeding the machine, I’d have to dumb it down, make it flashier, lean into outrage, tolerate abuse, and pray the algorithm didn’t change again.

No thanks.

I didn’t walk away from tarot. I walked away from the system that punishes depth and rewards idiocy.

Which brings me here: Boondock Rebel.

This isn’t a platform for popularity. It’s a refuge. A fire in the wilderness for those who’ve jumped off the wagon that’s barreling off a cliff.

It’s for the creators, seekers, and thinkers who are done twisting themselves into algorithm-friendly caricatures. For the ones who want truth, not trends. For the ones who want connection, not clicks.

And if that’s you — welcome. You’re not crazy for leaving. You’re not broken for being tired. You’re awake.

And hey, don’t forget to subscribe.
Not because an algorithm told me to say it — but because it means something when a real person says, I see you, too.