Haunted by the Living

So since I moved in with my husband's family my biological family has been trying to get me to talk to Anne, my former grandmother and last person I lived. I don't see why I should talk to her, neither do my in laws and my husband. All my grandmother did was verbally abuse the crap out of me to the point where I had to go to the hospital with a major panic attack at least once a month, so when it came down to it I secretly moved out. I never left my address or any link for her to find me. My mother-in-law, father-in-law, and husband said I shouldn't let her know any of it because she'd only bring me down more. Well... according to my biological family Anne's upset and misses me a lot. And I shouldn't upset her further by not calling her. But I know calling her will only mess me up, so after Anne sent four "family members" to talk to me I opted out by writing a letter. But ever since my little sister told me I should talk to Anne because Anne's extremely upset... Blah blah blah... I've been really depressed... I hate that no matter what I do that my biological family will only ever see me as the black sheep of the family. And they make sure I know it too. It makes me feel like I'll never amount to anything because they don't love me or accept me.
I've been doing so good since I moved to New York. I've been growing up well with next to no panic attacks. And everyone has noticed how well I'm doing. I've been happy, more open and honest. I've had time to study, my writing's getting better. I have more friends here. I'm practically glowing with happiness most days. It's true that not every day is perfect, but that's obviously to be expected since this is life and all. I have so much love and support in my new home. And I'm incredibly lucky to know everyone here.
Recently, my mother has disowned me, and with the holidays around everyone is asking how my family is biological mother and all. And in all honesty, it's killing me. I still don't know why I was disowned, and I keep looking for a logical reason why. I also am no longer allowed to talk to Gazzy, my little brother whom I raised thanks to my ex-mother's hatred for me. And her selfishness. My whole biological family minus Gazzy and my father have this warped, distorted version of reality where no matter what's going on they are the victim... Even when one of our own is suffering in the hospital everyone around them plays victim. Talk about freaking sick. It's awkward as hell to me because I'm the type of woman who lives in my writing, lives in TV shows/animes, and lives in books, but I'm one of the most down to earth women you'll meet. But why am I writing all this? Because even though I'm no longer in contact with them all these thoughts about them plague me. It's like being haunted by the living which is worse than being haunted by the dead because the living can rub your nose in it when they want more than the dead can. I just wish it didn't hurt so bad. I wish the living monsters would go back and crawl into their holes. Or more realistically I wish the thoughts and memories of them never bugged me again.

This is from four days ago, but it will help everyone get to know a bit about me. So I'm adding some of my posts from my old blog, so everyone can know a little about who I am and what I'm about. 

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