If you’ve spent any time in the podcast world over the last decade, you know the voice. High-energy, sharp as a tack, and always ready to dunk herself into a tank of sensory deprivation or join a fringe cult for the sake of "investigative journalism." For thirteen years, Carrie Poppy was the backbone of Oh No, Ross and Carrie!, a show that basically pioneered the "we show up so you don’t have to" genre.
Then, everything just... stopped.
The silence was weirdly loud. One minute she’s debunking chiropractic neck-cracking, and the next, the feed goes dark. If you’re looking for the short version of what happened to Carrie Poppy, the podcast officially ended in October 2024. But honestly, the "why" is a whole lot more complicated than just hitting a "stop" button on a recording deck. It involves personal trauma, a messy public fallout, and a total pivot in her life.
The October 2024 Bombshell
On October 13, 2024, a final audio clip dropped into the ONRAC feed. It wasn't a three-hour deep dive into Scientology or a wacky ghost hunt. It was a goodbye.
Carrie was incredibly blunt about it. She shared that she had experienced a significant traumatic event—the kind that shifts your entire internal geography. She didn't give the internet every single gory detail (as is her right), but she was open about the result: she was diagnosed with PTSD.
When your job for thirteen years has been "put yourself in high-stress, weird, and sometimes predatory environments," having a nervous system that is suddenly screaming "danger" makes that job impossible. She made the call to end the show for the "foreseeable future." Ross Blocher, her long-time co-host and friend, was there too, but it was clear the driving force behind the ending was Carrie’s need to heal.
The Substack Era and the "Manic" Rumors
After the show ended, things got kinda messy. That’s the only way to put it.
Carrie didn't just disappear into the woods to meditate. She moved her writing to Substack, and her tone shifted. If you follow her on social media or read her newsletters in 2025, you probably noticed a change. She became deeply, intensely focused on the conflict in Gaza, often posting at all hours and sending money to people claiming to be refugees.
This sparked a massive, and sometimes pretty ugly, debate in her old fan circles—specifically on the ONRAC subreddit. Some fans were worried. They pointed to her "unmasking" (Carrie has spoken openly about being AuDHD) and wondered if she was in the middle of a mental health crisis. Others defended her, arguing that what people called "mania" was actually just a person with a platform acting on their moral convictions.
The reality? It was likely a bit of both. Dealing with PTSD while navigating a late-in-life neurodivergent diagnosis is a lot for anyone. Add a public platform to that, and it’s a recipe for a "spiraling" narrative, whether it's true or not.
What’s She Doing Now? (2026 Update)
So, where is she today? Honestly, she’s still writing, but the "investigative skeptic" hat has mostly been traded for something more personal.
- The Trauma Book: For years, Carrie has been talking about a book she’s writing about the "trauma industry." Ironically, her own experiences made the subject matter a lot more relevant. As of early 2026, she’s still chipping away at it.
- The "New" Podcast: There’s been talk—and some early audio—of a new solo project via her Substack. It’s less "let’s join a cult" and more "let’s talk about how the mind breaks and rebuilds."
- Advocacy: She hasn't backed down from her activism. She’s still very active in the animal rights scene and continues to be a vocal (and sometimes controversial) voice on social justice issues.
Why This Actually Matters
Losing Oh No, Ross and Carrie! felt like a death in the family for a certain kind of nerd. It was a show that taught people how to think, not just what to think.
But Carrie’s departure highlights a bigger truth about the creator economy: burnout and trauma are real, even for the people who seem the most resilient. You can only stare into the abyss of human delusion for so long before the abyss starts staring back, or in Carrie's case, before life throws a curveball that makes the abyss look like a playground.
The "skeptic" community can be notoriously cold. It's built on logic, data, and "debunking." When a prominent member of that community starts talking about their own trauma or acting in ways that don't fit a neat, logical box, the community often doesn't know what to do with them.
Actionable Takeaways for the Curious
If you’re still missing that ONRAC itch or want to support Carrie’s current path, here’s what you can actually do:
- Check the Backlog: All 500+ episodes of Oh No, Ross and Carrie! are still hosted on the Maximum Fun network. If you haven't heard the "Scientology" or "Ayahuasca" arcs, they are essentially the gold standard of investigative podcasting.
- Follow the Substack: If you want her raw, unfiltered thoughts, the Carrie Poppy Substack is where she lives now. Just be prepared—it’s not the polished, edited version of her you heard for a decade. It’s realer.
- Support Ross Blocher: Ross is still active in the skeptical community and often appears on other podcasts or at conferences. He’s the "sooner" she mentioned in the farewell—he’s still out there doing the work.
- Practice "Compassionate Skepticism": This was Carrie’s whole brand. It means being skeptical of ideas, but kind to people. Applying that to her own current situation is probably the best way to honor the work she did.
Carrie Poppy didn't "fail" and she didn't just "quit." She hit a wall, recognized she was hurt, and chose her health over a brand. In a world where everyone is told to "grind" until they break, that’s actually a pretty bold move.