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--- headspace:abyss [2026/05/27 22:10] – removed - external edit (Unknown date) 127.0.0.1
+++ headspace:abyss [2026/06/05 12:32] (current) – ↷ Links adapted because of a move operation jaime
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+====== Abyss ======
+(Namespace: [[headspace:start]])
+<tabbox Exterior>
+{{headspace:abyss.png}}
+<tabbox Interior>
+{{headspace:abyss-null.png}}
+</tabbox>
+^ [[headspace:start#typology|Type]] | A2-//cr//: subconscious nexus, confining, recurring |
+^ Occupants ||
+| All of my [[headmates:start]], directly or indirectly, besides [[headmates:Jaime]], [[headmates:Sophie]], and [[headmates:Kate]] ||
+^ Connections ||
+^ [[Black void]] | Exterior |
+| Everywhere else in [[headspace:start]], directly or indirectly ||
+Abyss is a place inside my mind. I've learned that between myself and its contents, we comprise an [[https://dragonsroost.neocities.org/essay/edu/pluralglossary.pdf|adaptive median system]].
+When I think about what it's like inside my head, usually all I see is a [[black void]] where I can look in upon a big black tangly ball of [[functioning:trauma|things I don't want to think about]]. "Abyss" is the name I've given to that big black tangly ball, all of it, the whole thing.
+Lately I've been learning it's not just //things// in there. [[headmates:start|People]] also live there.
+They aren't supposed to. It's just that every now and then, when something horrible happens, or a lot of small bad things happen, or maybe I just learn something about myself that doesn't seem to make any sense no matter how I think about it... the person I am can't go on any longer, and the easiest way to survive is to pretend that person is made-up and doesn't exist, and the only person who's //really// here is the //new// me. So the //old// me gets split off and [[theories:redshift|pushed down]] into the big black tangly ball, where everything //else// I don't want to think about goes. [[functioning:amnesia|What they felt, I will myself not to feel. What they knew, I will myself to forget.]] And they're relegated to living in some [[headspace:start|fictional world]] inside the big black tangly ball, as if they were never me, as if they were only ever a character I made up. The fake memories they make together there get all mixed up and confused with the real memories they came there with, and I stop knowing what's real and what I only daydreamed. But at least it numbs the pain, right?
+[[theories:dissociative_mechanisms|This is really unhealthy.]] It was a necessary defense mechanism to survive what I now understand I went through, but it's run rampant and I don't know who I am anymore. But it's okay. We're working it out in here. We've found each other and we're [[functioning:internal_communication|trying our best]] to get us all back out to the surface.
+If you got here from the [[:start|start page]], you might remember I said I've //recently been learning// I'm plural. So how can this have been going on all my life and I just never knew about it until now? Haha. Well. As it turns out. //That's how this shit works.// They call it a "disorder of secrecy" for a //reason.// The stories I tell myself didn't //want// me to know they were true. The characters I make up didn't //want// me to know they were real and alive and reliving things that had really happened to me. But now I know, and I can't go back to not knowing, so now we all have no choice but to do our best together.
+(Also I did kind of know the whole time //something// was going on. Because of the [[functioning:trauma#actual facts]] of the case. But until now, I had willed myself to believe I had imagined it all.)