I think my way to cope with something like this is to hold onto our own head cannons. Changes nothing, but it's fine if it doesn't change. In my eyes all the backrooms need to be is the infinite office room that's creepy since it's oddly empty and you know you cannot get out. You will starve, slowly, boringly, till the last bit of euphoria happens and you die. And perhaps there is a shadow creature, after days that you imagine were weeks you see something flash away. Sweet and simple really.