New Ways is a biweekly column written by Sebastian Strawser ’29. Strawser reflects on the pause of his Stanford education and ponders new ways to approach education, mental health and life itself. He loves to remind Stanford students that there indeed are new ways of thinking, doing and living.

It’s been over 18 months since I began my academic suspension journey. If you would’ve told me on the day that it started that my time away would last this long — with at least another full academic year or two to complete — I would’ve broken down in tears. I would’ve thought, more than I already did at the time, that failure had cemented itself as a constant in my life. 

There are indeed multiple ways in which “failure” could describe my time at Stanford. I was transported my sophomore year as a result of overdrinking myself away from some deep shame I hadn’t yet tried to process. Many of my classes I either failed or never saw through to completion. I even let the overwhelming majority of my few Stanford friendships become things of the past. One might say that my time on the Farm was riddled with the seeds of failure.

I carried these and many other of my Stanford failures with me as I adjusted to my longer-term life back at home. Unable to deny the undeniable and wait until fall quarter came back around, I had the time — frightening, unavoidable time — to think deeply about whether or not those failures would define me for the rest of my life. With all that I’ve learned about myself, how I’ve changed and what I’ve accomplished during this pause, I can now say with a rare sense of confidence and clarity that those so-called failures will, for the better, always be a part of me. 

The supposed failures — academic, emotional, social and otherwise — of my Stanford experience are what I carry with me in this new chapter. One in which, I’ve survived over 16 months of retail work (much appreciation to my wonderful coworkers), continue in my cross–sectional writing with The Daily (much love to you lovely staffers and editors) and even re-enroll in the very community college that I was once dual-enrolled in during middle and high school. Blossoming from those seeds of failure, I’ve done quite well for myself (all things considered). 

It’s my success in the classroom thus far in the semester that’s been the most surreal for me. At the time of writing this, I have a 97.33% grade in my statistics class, 90.83% in sociology and 100% in paralegal studies. This is perhaps the strongest indicator that all of the hiccups to my Stanford experience, while important to who I’ve become, are not the entirety of who I am. This chapter — working, writing, student life and being with friends and family — hasn’t been an easy one. But it’s been so incredibly rewarding and awe-inspiring.

Never before have I been able to look at myself in the mirror like I do now. Yes, I sometimes look into my eyes and see fear of the unknown — all that I cannot predict about where this alternative path will take me. Being back at the community college I took classes in during eighth grade is a stark reminder that I still have a long way to go. However, my Stanford pause helped me find a more glass-half-full perspective. Through this path — yet to be trekked — there are successes that have yet to be achieved.

I can look forward to the future — forward with joy, pride and conviction — this time around. I can plan my classes for the upcoming semester (I got my eyes on you, political philosophy) and get excited over the academic challenges ahead. I can continue my multi-sectional yapping at The Daily and be joyfully reminded of how my time away from campus only underscores my love for what Stanford can aspire to be. I can take another look at the people in my life and finally begin to be more intentional with how I connect with them. I can do a lot, and this time I can do it while knowing full well that it’s in a better direction.

To Sebastian 16 months ago, who is afraid of where this journey is taking him, and to every other student out there whose field is riddled with seeds of “failure”, know this: the soil is always barren before the seeds are planted; but from those seeds blossom the flowers of success and self-discovery. I am proud of how much you’ve grown, and someday you’ll see it too.