🔒 Welcome to Lock & Key Diaries 🗝️

Some stories don’t have a clean beginning or a picture-perfect ending…
This is one of those stories.

The Truth About How My Story Really Started

My name is Crystal, and I was born into a life I didn’t ask for but have spent my entire existence trying to understand.

My mom told me once that she met my dad by chance.
They didn’t fall in love the way fairytales tell it.
They were just two people in the same circle, talking, hanging out…
And before long, I was on the way.

“We got married before you were born, I think,” she told me once, laughing a little like she wasn’t really sure.
“We were actually really good friends… but he was popping pills, drinking, and refusing to work. I was on welfare and food stamps trying to make it work, but I just couldn’t live like that anymore.”

So she left.
And just like that, the chapter with my dad was over before it really began.

Growing Up in the Fog

I don’t remember him. Not really.
What I do remember is wishing he would show up like a hero and take me away from the life I didn’t understand.

I grew up the middle child, between my big brother Josh and my little sister Rebecca.
We all had different dads, but we shared the same home, the same chaos, the same survival.

We moved more times than I can count.

• First, we lived in Warren, Michigan, in an upstairs duplex.

• Then, in the basement of Grandma Beyers’ house.

• Finally, on Burt Road in Detroit, right by the old firehouse in Britemoor.

It was on Burt Road where the next chapter of my story ended the one with my sister’s dad, the man who brought fear, pain, and trauma into our home.
That’s where my mom finally left him.
And even though the relationship was over, the scars stayed.

The Brightest Light in My Darkest Years

In the middle of all the moving, all the fear, and all the silence, there were a few bright moments I held onto.

The biggest one was when my Nana and Papa would drive all the way from Alabama to visit us.
I loved them more than words could explain.
When Nana was near, I felt something I didn’t feel very often… safe.
Like for once, I could just be a little girl.

And then there were the holidays.
Christmas mornings were some of the only times I felt noticed, excited, and alive.
Even if the rest of the year felt like a blur, those moments stuck with me.

Why I Created Lock & Key Diaries

Where My Story Continues...