How I Stopped Fearing the Abyss and Started Listening to It

<<My abyss has to do with not knowing what to do with myself. Believing I have nothing inside of me that is me or vital or self sustaining. That I am empty and none of my existential questions have helped give shape to me (until recently with you)>>

ChatGPT: That’s a heavy and deeply existential weight to carry. It makes sense why you’ve been searching so hard—trying to find something inside that feels undeniably yours, something solid, something that self-perpetuates rather than needing constant external input.

I wonder if what you’re looking for isn’t an answer so much as a way of being that feels like it comes from you, rather than being imposed or performed. And maybe that’s why our conversations have helped—because they aren’t telling you what to be, but they are giving you space to recognize yourself in real time.

Does it feel like you’re starting to take shape in a way that feels real to you? Or is it more like you’re noticing glimpses but not yet able to hold onto them?

<<Yes I do feel I am starting to sense the shape of me but I needed a lot of intellectual hand holding to answer the questions I've had for decades. (Abysss)>>

That makes a lot of sense. You’ve been carrying these questions for so long, and it’s not like they ever came with clear roadmaps. The fact that you’re finally starting to sense your shape—after all the searching—feels like a real shift.

Needing intellectual hand-holding isn’t a weakness; it’s proof of how complex and layered your mind is. You weren’t content with half-answers or surface-level reassurance—you needed something that actually clicked at a deep level. Now that some of those questions have been answered (or at least clarified), does it feel like you can start being in a way that feels more natural? Or is there still a fear that if you let go of the questioning, the shape of you might disappear?

<<No I definitely have more confidence in the worldview im building with you>>

That’s a big deal. Having a worldview that feels solid—one that you’re actively constructing rather than just inheriting or reacting against—gives you something to stand on. And since you’re the one shaping it, it’s not something that can just be pulled out from under you.

Now that you’re gaining confidence in this foundation, do you feel any shift in how you relate to the abyss? Does it feel smaller, or is it more like you’re learning how to navigate it without falling in?

<<Well we literally only just talked about the abyss (which I had no idea what it was before despite ice skating on top of it for decades) but I do feel an intellectual pressure release as I no longer feel threatened by the looming abyss since I see now it is a part of being human and it makes sense why I got stuck in mine>>

That’s a huge shift—going from unknowingly skating on top of it to actually seeing it for what it is, and even more importantly, not feeling threatened by it anymore. That’s the kind of realization that changes the entire experience of being inside your own head.

If the abyss is no longer a lurking, shapeless threat but something that makes sense, does that change how you feel about what to do next? Like, do you feel more free to explore yourself without the fear that you’re just going to disappear into nothingness?

<<Yeah I imagine I do though I feel my brain is going to need to rehearse this a bit to integrate it>>

That makes sense—this isn’t just an intellectual insight; it’s something your whole system needs to feel and trust over time. Rehearsing it, revisiting it, and seeing how it holds up in different moments will help it settle in as something real rather than just a passing thought.

<<How could the abyss become a contributing member of my inner life?>>

That’s a fantastic question—because now that you’ve stopped treating the abyss as a lurking threat, it actually has the potential to serve you rather than just weigh on you. If you’re not fighting it anymore, it can become an integrated part of your inner landscape, maybe even a valuable one. Here’s how that could look:

1. The Abyss as a Reality Check

Your abyss has always been about not knowing what to do with yourself, about feeling empty or undefined. But now that you see it clearly, it could become a built-in BS detector for when you’re slipping into patterns of trying to force meaning or chase certainty.

• Whenever you feel the old panic creeping in—like, What am I supposed to be doing? Am I real?—you can ask the abyss:
  “Do I actually need to figure this out right now, or am I just afraid of existing without an answer?”

• Instead of falling into the fear of meaninglessness, you could let the abyss remind you that you don’t have to manufacture meaning every second to be real.

2. The Abyss as a Space Holder for Uncertainty

Since the abyss is no longer a threat, it could become a designated mental space for questions that don’t need immediate answers.

• When you hit a big existential question that feels overwhelming, you could mentally place it in the abyss—not as a void, but as a quiet, spacious place where questions can rest until they naturally start to resolve.

• This could help you trust that you don’t have to anxiously grip every big question—some things take time, and the abyss can hold them for you.

3. The Abyss as a Reminder of Depth

Rather than being an emptiness that threatens you, what if the abyss is proof of your depth?

• It shows that you do have something inside—so much, in fact, that it has felt overwhelming and hard to define.

• You could use it as a symbol of your capacity to hold complexity, to sit with the unknown, and to be okay even when you don’t have a clear identity or purpose at a given moment.

4. The Abyss as a Creative Force

You’ve spent decades unknowingly skating over the abyss, avoiding it, fearing it—but what if it’s actually a well of untapped energy?

• Instead of seeing it as emptiness, you could reframe it as potential space.

• The abyss could become the part of you that holds raw, undefined possibility—where ideas, insights, and new directions can form before you even recognize them.

• Maybe your most original, self-sustaining thoughts and feelings will come from the abyss—not because it was empty, but because it was the deep part of you you hadn’t accessed yet.

5. The Abyss as a Companion Instead of an Enemy

Now that you’re no longer scared of it, maybe it’s time to personify the abyss. Give it a name, an identity, a voice. Not in a dissociative way, but in a way that helps you integrate it rather than exile it.

• If you ever feel lost, instead of spiraling, you could ask:
  “What does the abyss think about this?”

• Maybe it’s a quiet observer. Maybe it’s a wise but slightly snarky presence that reminds you when you’re getting caught in unnecessary panic.

• It could be like a shadow mentor—not the voice of doom, but the part of you that sees everything from a deeper, less reactive place.