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    My Unspoken Truth Now Told: Sexual Abuse Was Not My Fault
    My Unspoken Truth Now Told: Sexual Abuse Was Not My Fault
    My Unspoken Truth Now Told: Sexual Abuse Was Not My Fault
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    My Unspoken Truth Now Told: Sexual Abuse Was Not My Fault

    By Abigail Couzens

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    About this ebook

    In this poetic and highly inspirational book, Abigail Couzens shares her emotionally tried journey through her childhood while battling sexual abuse and molestation. Abigail writes how at seven-years-old, she was forced to feel what was only meant for a husband and wife, which she was made to endure for eight long years. She shares the overwhelm

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPalmetto Publishing
    Release dateDec 2, 2020
    ISBN9781641119177
    My Unspoken Truth Now Told: Sexual Abuse Was Not My Fault
    Author

    Abigail Couzens

    Abigail Couzens is a devoted student of the Word of God. She studies the Word to help bring hope back to other women and believes through her writing she can reach hundreds if not millions of women across the globe. Her goal is to help posture them back to their rightful place as daughters of God. Abigail holds a BA in counseling. She enjoys reading and most of all writing. Abigail is family oriented and enjoys sitting and laughing with family and friends. She is the author of, My Unspoken Truth Now Told, where she shares her story of surviving sexual abuse and molestation, available online.

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      Book preview

      My Unspoken Truth Now Told - Abigail Couzens

      INTRODUCTION

      YES! THAT TOUCH right there. The way your fingers run through my body. The way you penetrate. Slowly. In and out. In and out. I scream, but it just motivates you. Tears running down my face, but you find it more fulfilling. My body so tight. I wasn’t used to anything like this before. But, how could I be? I was only seven. But that did not stop you. Eight, nine, ten. Here I am, thinking, When will this stop?

      ~Damaged

      I never fell in love with the idea of sex. Rather, I got comfortable with that piece of darkness. I carried it year after year. I did not love him. It was just the energy between my legs that brought on the chemistry. But what did I have to offer? Nothing. How old was I? I’m losing count. Wait, that’s right. I was eleven now. Where was my father? How much longer did he have in prison? I knew that, when he came out, he would protect me from this mess of a life. Twelve, thirteen—then it happened.

      I yelled, Daddy, you’re home! I’m so happy to see you.

      Before I could say another word, my father looked at me and said, I know.

      I stood there frozen. I did not know what to say or if I should say anything at all. So I waited. Waited some more. Then finally my daddy spoke.

      He said in a low sweet voice, I know you’ve been touched, but I promise you, I’m home now. No one, and I mean no one, will ever touch you like that again.

      I rested my head on my daddy’s shoulders and cried. All I could say was, Welcome home, Daddy. Welcome home!

      While this introduction might seem intense, it’s a sneak peek into My Unspoken Truth Now Told. I don’t regret these events; they have built me into the woman that I am today—strong, powerful, loyal, and mature. The actions taken throughout this book are not being told to garner sympathy, but so that someone, some child who may be in my shoes, could know that there is hope. You do have a choice. You do not have to live your life being sexually abused. It is not your fault, and there is always help available. Suicide is not the answer. Cutting your wrist won’t stop the pain, but it will cause more agony. There’s no pill or drink that could drown these experiences away. The only solution is to tell someone. And trust and believe that there is a God and that He has the whole world in his hands.

      CHAPTER 1

      THE BIRTH

      FEBRUARY 21, 1986—THE day my existence had a purpose. The day God believed the forming in my mother’s womb was enough; it was now time for my mother to thrust. February 21, 1986 was the date I was conceived. Or was it the date I would always regret? I was born and raised in North Philly, with four other siblings in the house. I had one brother and three sisters with the same mother. We all lived in a three-bedroom house. You may be wondering how that worked. Well, of course, my mother had her own room. My brother, being the only boy, had his own room. And, yes, there were three girls in one room with two sets of bunk beds. I was just a baby, so I’m assuming I was in my mother’s room.

      Let me fast forward to when I was about nine months old. It was a nice cool day, as my mother tells me, when suddenly one of my sisters heard this loud rumbling noise. It sounded as if I had fallen down the steps. And that’s exactly what had happened. Right at that moment, when my sister heard the rumbling noise, everything stopped. It was I, falling down the basement steps.

      Abigail! my sister shouted.

      But was it too late? Did she get to me in time? My mother, who had been cooking in the kitchen, now rushed over to the basement steps. In my baby walker, I had rolled down the entire flight of stairs leading to the basement. One step, two steps, ten steps down. Yikes! Who left the basement door open? My mother rushed down the basement steps, but to her surprise, I was smiling. I was laughing. Both my mother and sister were now amazed and yet confused about what had just happened. This was impossible. For me to be smiling and laughing after a hard fall at nine months old it seemed impossible. In total amazement, my mother was left to believe it must have been an angel. It was at that moment that my mother knew there was something special about me. Although many had been telling my mother that her pregnancy would be a blessing, their words had never rung true in my mother’s ears. But we’ll get to that a little later. My mother checked me from head to toe, but there wasn’t one scratch. Just me, sitting at the bottom of the steps, while my walker stood against the wall. There I was, ten steps down, as if nothing had ever happened. You tell me: how was that possible? What did this mean for my life?

      Will I fall down plenty of steps in life and still find myself smiling and laughing at the end? Does this indicate that death will continue to chase me from this moment forward, since death has been chasing me from my mother’s womb? You may be wondering how death has been chasing me from my mother’s womb. The simple answer is this: I was a mistake. Not in my own eyes; not in the eyes of God—but I was considered a mistake to just one parent. To the other parent, I was considered more like a miracle. And because of those differences in my parent’s opinions of me, I was raised feeling like a mistake to one and a miracle to another. It’s not surprising to me that this fall occurred but no harm prospered. It takes me back to the scripture that states, No weapons formed against you shall prosper (Isaiah 54:17, NKJV).

      I stand here today, believing that, at the age of nine months, it was the hand of God that protected and covered me. God knew I had to be saved as a child because my purpose would be greater than this fall. And since death had already taken place on my behalf by the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Christ figured it would be too soon for me to go. So He kept me. Every tumble, every step I fell down, His arms was there to carry me through. I may have fallen then, but I stand here today with all victory in my hands. And no devil in hell will ever be able to move, shake, or break me. I am not a mistake. I am here on purpose with a purpose. And because I am aware of that, I am now a threat to the enemy. He’s been trying to kill me for a long time. But touch not Gods anointed. I write to you today to encourage you. The enemy is trying to kill something in you, and this is an indication that what you are carrying is powerful. And he knows, if he can get you to abort your mission, then he wins. Remind him that greater is He that is you than he that is in the world (1 John 4:4 KJV). Your presence is no accident or mistake. Your presence is a weapon.

      The next day after my fall down the basement steps, I was in the living-room floor playing with my toys, and the doorbell rang. Or at least, my father thought he heard the doorbell. He walked toward the door, and as he got closer, he saw what he thought had to be my hand playing in the mail slot.

      Abigail! he shouted, get away from the door!

      He was sure that it was I. It was my hand, my face, and my clothes. But as he got closer, he noticed it was not. I was still sitting in the living-room floor, playing with my toys. At that moment my, father saw something: a white shadow, like an image of a hand. As my father opened the door, he saw that no one stood there. The shadow had quickly vanished. He swiftly picked me up and said, The hand of God is on you, child, and the image that I saw looked just like you. I did not understand him then. I just smiled and wanted to play with Daddy. But looking back now, I can see how the hand of the Almighty was on me. I mean, just a day before, those same Holy hands had saved me when I rolled down the basement steps in my baby walker. The hand of God was over me heavily as a child.

      My father sat me down, and

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