SpongeBob SquarePants. Many of you saw or heard this iconic name on your TV screens when you were kids. Or maybe you didn’t. You may have been told it dumbs you down, encourages incorrect behaviors, or even rots your brain.

I’m convinced some people are living under a rock, much like Patrick Star, because no matter how many conversations I’ve had with people about this show, there’s always one person who admits they have never seen it. Usually, they say ‘I wasn’t allowed to watch “SpongeBob” as a kid.’

I don’t put any shame on that person, though. Some watched “Clifford the Big Red Dog” or “Caillou.” We all had some sort of cartoon that entertained us as kids. Although I’ve watched my fair share of cartoons, SpongeBob has impacted me the most.

I’ve realized that, over time, “SpongeBob SquarePants” has spoken to me in profound ways that no other show has been able to achieve. In particular, Spongebob allowed me to embrace my inner child and become animated in my own performances. Most importantly, it served as my comfort show back then, and it still does today.

Although much of being a kid is supposed to be exploring the physical world, I had my own world of imagination on a TV screen. Now, on that same TV screen, “SpongeBob SquarePants” is a heavy reflection of my longing for youth.

I had the opportunity to rewatch a good portion of the show over spring break, and something that surprised me the most when watching SpongeBob as an adult was the power of my own memories. Oddly enough, I found myself humming along to specific songs or quoting moments from an episode I hadn’t seen or heard in years.

This was the moment I realized SpongeBob had a stronger connection to my own character than I had previously thought. I wanted to take a step back and truly look at SpongeBob’s character from an adult lens. 

SpongeBob is a 30-year-old grown sponge, and yet some look at him and think “That’s a kid!” or “He’s too immature to be an adult!” which is understandable. However, in my mind, there’s more to SpongeBob than meets the eye.

On one hand, you’d expect SpongeBob to act his age; but on the other hand, I see a sponge who maybe didn’t ever want to grow up. Maybe in SpongeBob’s world, everyone he knew moved on from being ‘childish,’ which made him want to embrace his youth even more. 

To this day, that ‘childish’ personality trait is present in his character. However, despite this surface-level appearance, SpongeBob is a positive role model for people throughout all stages of life. Whether it’s through him trying to act tough, or wanting to be ‘grandma’s little boy,’ at some point throughout his 13 seasons on screen, he opens a window where we can all relate to him somehow.

This is something that truly sticks with me. I never wanted to grow up, but society said I had to. I was told I had to “act my age” when I don’t actually think age should have a confined set of rules or obligations you have to abide by. Yes, I may be silly, goofy, childish, immature, whatever you want to call it, but I also channel that energy positively into my behavior as a young adult.

I’m an actor and I have such a driven passion for acting and performing, but I never knew how I actually developed that passion.

SpongeBob is all about being an actor — being creative, abstract, and defining your own character. It’s about allowing yourself to pretend and claim your independence. One of the most notable moments from the show was when he used his “imagination” to create his own little world with just a cardboard box. We saw his mind run wild with ideas that were exciting and engaging.

While SpongeBob’s animated personality serves him well in Bikini Bottom, my experience has been different. I never gave much thought to it when people told me I seem so animated; I just thought it was partially due to the fact that I grew up on stage. However, thinking about it now, I realize that because of my anxiety, everything had become a performance to me. 

I felt as if I had to overanalyze everything. I started calculating how I would act, speak, walk, react, blink, hear, smell, and taste. 

Not only that, but I also had to map out any given situation, because I knew the rest of the world never played by my rules. I was an actor, not only onstage, but offstage too.

This idea of overanalyzing often plays into my anxiety, which is a major social barrier that I deal with wherever I go. Overanalyzing is exhausting and only feeds on my brain, like an earworm, a musical doodle. Thankfully, SpongeBob has been there to provide me with comfort along the way. 

Part of what made watching SpongeBob so special for me as a kid was not the show itself, but specifically waking up every morning knowing I had something to look forward to as my source of entertainment. That longing to wake up for something that brought happiness, however brief, made each day better.

Now I’m much older, and I’m still that child. The child who didn’t want to leave his house because he wanted to watch SpongeBob and Patrick go jellyfishing. The child who wanted to watch Plankton tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula for the thousandth time. The child who wanted to see SpongeBob thrive and feel loved in his community of sea creatures in Bikini Bottom.

SpongeBob is someone I can connect with, and he’ll always listen to what I have to say, at any time. Because he is me. He is perfect, and he is everything that I am. He’s shown me the door to my youth I thought I could never reopen. He’s my friend.

SpongeBob presents himself as a voice for my anxiety when I am unable to speak up. He made me feel as if I was never alone in the first place. 

I know that wherever I am, I can use my imagination, I can embrace my inner goofy goober, and SpongeBob will always be ready for me.