Taking Off the Mask

Keegan Stewart: Good morning.
This morning we get to hear from Elijah Blanchard.
Before moving to LCU four years ago, these are the states that Elijah has lived in.
Michigan, Colorado, Oregon, Alabama, and of course Texas.
He's an integrated marketing and communications major.
He's been extremely involved as a student.
He's currently serving as a third-year RA in Johnson Hall.
He currently serves as the vice president for Quantanea.
And he works in our admissions office as an intern.
When I think about Elijah, I think about someone who isn't afraid to work hard.
He always wants to improve at something.
I think about someone who's an encourager, someone who likes to have fun, and someone who's often well-dressed.
But as you'll hear this morning, Elijah isn't afraid to be real.
He's going to share some of his personal journey, the hardships, the lessons, and the victories.
Please join me in welcoming Elijah Blanchard.
Elijah Blanchard: all right i've got this all planned out i've got my shoes shined i've got my hair done i've got my
beard trimmed i've got my quantity of tie tied perfectly love you guys i got my little LCU pin
i've got all the right colors but something deep down does not feel right to me something in my
soul. I have this pit that does not feel right. I'm worried you guys are going to perceive me in
a weird way, that you're going to see this as weird. Who gets up in chapel and speaks in a
three-piece suit? That's weird. No one does that. Who walks around campus wearing ties every day?
Nobody does that, except for some professors. Sorry. This is often how I felt freshman year.
Freshman year, I was so worried about how I'd be perceived, so worried about how people would see
me, so worried about how people would think of me. It bugged me to my core. Even the slightest
feeling that felt a little bit off, that made me seem like you could see me as some weirdo or as
less or as I didn't fit in would really bug me. Now I'm a senior and I just like dressing up,
so these are the clothes I get to wear. Love wearing my suits and my ties every day, but for
the longest time this would really bug me. When I was younger, I moved from Detroit, Michigan to
Houston, Texas. The best way to describe Michigan was fun. I enjoyed my time with my family. I
remember the cider mills, the snow falling, the leaves coming off the trees, the colors changing.
Yes, there were struggles, but life felt easier. I was younger. I didn't have problems yet. It was
comfortable. I was in an easy place. My parents that year came up to me and my siblings and said,
hey, we think we're moving to Houston, Texas. I didn't understand. That was foreign to me. Why
here. I don't understand. Both of my siblings, who I love very much, getting that out of the way,
are very opinionated people. And so immediately they made their opinions know that they don't
want to move. They don't want change. They don't want to do any of that. Me being the person I am
saw that this was going to be hard on my parents either way. So I decided for the first time in my
life that I'd put a mask on. That I wouldn't admit to them that I didn't want to move. That I wouldn't
admit to them that it was scary to me, that I wouldn't admit to them that I didn't want to
make new friends and find a new place and move to Texas. It really bugged me. So I put this mask on
and lied to my parents. I was in denial of how I truly felt. That year, we moved to Houston, Texas,
all the way across the country from Detroit, Michigan. It was a big change. As you people know,
Texas is crazy. Love it here, but you guys are crazy. Anyone from the north, that is a giant
change, and especially for a kid at the age of 10, that is a lot. And not only was it a lot of a
change, but it was a lot for me to hide how I felt from my parents, from my family, from my friends.
At the time, I didn't realize it, but I got very depressed. Something I often joked about with my
siblings. Something that was a laughing matter for me and my friends, but I didn't realize it, but
this young 10-year-old had developed depression for the first time, I had long, hard nights
where I stared at the ceiling and hated myself, where I laid there wishing that I could be honest,
where I laid there wishing I didn't have to lie to my parents, wishing that I could just say,
hey, I don't want to move. I don't want to be here. I'm struggling in school. I'm struggling
to make friends. Soon that depression spiraled into my first addiction. An addiction not often
talked about, but my food addiction. In Michigan, I used to be a skinny runner. I ran hundreds of
miles a year. A little flex here. I was in the newspaper at one point. Still have that clipping
in my room. But when we moved to Texas, I started eating a lot. I realized when I ate, the chewing
and the flavors would take my mind off what was going on. It would take my mind off the fact that
I was lying to my parents, lying to my friends, lying to myself. So I started gaining a bunch of
weight. I became the fat kid. I got bullied on the playground. I had people and friends make fun of me.
Soon eating wasn't enough. That's when I developed my pornography addiction,
something not often admitted in chapel and something that we all often stray away from
talking about. But that entered my life. It became just like food for me, a distraction, a way to get
away, a way to not think about what I was struggling with, not think about the fact that I was lying,
not think about these masks that I was putting on, hiding my true self.
This led to deeper and darker depression, harder and heavier masks that I had to cover up and
continue to lie about. I was lying to everyone around me. I was lying to myself, and I was in
complete denial of my situation. These struggles followed me from middle school to high school
and soon into college. I was lucky enough to graduate a year early, so I graduated my high
school in 2022 and was off to Lubbock Christian University. I was so excited to come to this
university because it was promised to me that I would be seen. It was promised to me that I'd be
walked with, that I'd be heard, that I'd be welcomed with open arms. For so long, I just wanted to be
seen because I wore these masks. I didn't let people truly see who I was, so the fact that I
could go somewhere and people would want to see me was like a drug to me. I wanted that so bad.
I got here in 2022, and that is not the experience I had. For three years, I hated LCU. I didn't want
to be here. I was mad. I was bitter. I was angry. I didn't feel seen. I didn't feel heard. I didn't
feel welcomed. I didn't feel walked with. I went from day-to-day life, keeping my masks on, hiding
how I truly felt, not admitting to people that I didn't feel welcomed here. I continued to hold
this bitterness and anger for the first two and a half years of my college education,
wishing that it would be different, wishing that I'd actually be walked with,
wishing that I could actually be seen.
Last year, I got to serve as the master follies director for my club.
We ended up losing master follies that year,
and after our loss, I finally broke.
I sat there alone, sobbing.
During the follies season, I had some guys in my club give me a really hard time
and treat me like they didn't want me to be a member of their club,
that they didn't want me there.
I didn't feel seen. I didn't feel heard.
I didn't feel walked with, and that was the snapping point.
Why did no one want to see me?
Why did no one want to walk with me?
What is wrong with me?
Why does no one care to open their arms and welcome me in with a hug?
And then our LCU motto and slogan that's printed on all these doors finally occurred to me.
We walk with you.
And for the first time in my life, the final word of that sentence was emphasized.
We walk with you.
I'd realized for so long I was focusing on them that I wasn't focusing on myself.
I wasn't focusing on the fact that I was putting on masks so they could not see me.
They could not see my true self because I wouldn't let them.
No one could walk with me because I was choosing to walk alone every single day.
After finally making this realization to myself, it was time for a change.
I spent too much money and spent too much time at this university to keep going on how I was, so I started opening up.
It started with a couple friends, a couple mentors.
I opened up about struggles.
I opened up for where I was.
I opened up about how I truly felt.
I started dressing like I actually want to dress, looking like I actually want to look, talking like I actually want to talk.
And my life changed.
What started as a couple people that I felt really comfortable around grew and grew and grew.
What I originally didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone, I can now share in chapel on stage.
My college career changed.
The sun shined a little brighter.
My classes were a little more enjoyable.
The calf tasted a whole lot better.
For the first time in my life, I felt light.
I felt seen.
I felt appreciated.
I felt walked with.
For the first time in my life,
I realized we walk with you is not a one-sided promise.
It is an invitation that I had not accepted.
So if you're in this crowd today
and you don't feel seen
and you don't feel appreciated
and you don't feel walked with,
here's my challenge to you.
Somewhere in this room,
There is an RA, a professor, a faculty member, a staff member that wants to hear your story.
There's someone in this room that wants to get to know you.
There's someone that wants to know what you struggle with.
They want to know what you had for breakfast this morning.
They want to walk with you through this life, but they can't if you don't let them.
I challenge you all to open up to someone today.
Start small.
Start with one person, with a friend.
Start with one piece of information that you can share and open up a little bit about yourself.
taking off your mask, unveiling your curtain for who you truly are. At LCU we
want to see you. At LCU we want to be able to support you. We want to walk with
you, but we can't if you don't let us. Do not make my mistake. Let us walk with you.
You're dismissed.