Splash. I fall backward, adrenaline surging through my veins as the water embraces me. Lips sealed, I clench the regulator firmly in my mouth. It’s what keeps me breathing, a necessity for those with small lungs and no gills. Quickly resurfacing, I tap my fist on my head twice to signal I’m okay. An ombre of turquoise to sapphire hosts a myriad of boats tied to buoys and lulled by the waves. While it’s gorgeous, the most breathtaking place awaits my descent. With a release of air from my BCD, anticipation trickles through me, and I descend. Submerged, I gaze toward the ocean floor. A plethora of life moves on through their daily routines. As I reach the bottom, I maneuver toward the reefs; some are thin and dance with the current; others resemble rock, stalwart, standing their ground. A ray effortlessly glides across the bottom like an eagle on the wind. My breathing fills my ears as bubbles of air stream from valve to surface. Occasionally, I hear the gravelly crunch of a parrotfish chomping on algae with its beak. Glimpses of purple and yellow catch my eye—a school of fairy basslets late for a pep rally. I’ve always felt a deep connection to the ocean. My parents tell me that when I was two, I’d stay in tide pools until my face turned a shade of plum and my fingers shriveled to prunes. Curious and soothed by the tide pools and their residents, I never realized the cold. That feeling is magnified while I dive. Submerged in the water, able to view the species and area I'm so passionate about, I feel entirely at peace. Stress fades away, and I can concentrate on what's important. In the time I’ve had to reflect underwater, my thoughts revolve around how one of the most life-changing struggles I’ve endured is intricately intertwined with my greatest passion. At 14, I was experiencing difficulties, including chronic fatigue and cognitive impairment, making it hard for me to carry out daily functions. After an exhaustive array of tests, I was finally diagnosed with mercury poisoning. The University of Washington Environmental Medical team was interested in my case because mercury cases are rarely observed, and my mercury levels were in the top 1% of all people tested. After years of numerous chelation treatments, the mercury has now been removed from my body. Knowing that toxicity from the ocean nearly killed me is ironic since the sea is a source of solace and inspiration for me. The toxicity I accumulated from the ocean was hard to get out of my body. It will be even harder to remove it from our water bodies. My personal experiences sparked my dedication to studying these toxins and revealed how ecological and human health are deeply interconnected. I am continuing this by researching mercury and aluminum levels in biota through my master’s program at the University of Florida. Ultimately, I plan to continue working in environmental toxicology and conservation, then pursue a career that integrates this with law and policy. I endeavor to use research not only to understand ecological change but also to inform decisions that protect biodiversity and promote environmental justice.