Darren's blog

People outside this world ask me the same question every time and I believe most fighters or wrestlers here must had received same question:

“Why do you still do this?”

Why the bruises, the soreness, the late nights, the long drives, all the chaos that comes with fighting and wrestling?

I get why they’re confused.

I’ve had my share of injuries such as broken bones over the years, and most recently fractured ribs. And the stupid part? I wasn’t even fully healed when I stepped into an MMA fight again. I felt every movement, every strike, every twist… but I still showed up. Something in me pulls me back no matter how beat up I get.

And the truth is, I don’t return because I enjoy pain.

I return because something inside feels incomplete when I’m away from all this.

There’s a kind of honesty in fighting that I don’t find anywhere else. In most parts of life, people hide things like feelings, intentions, insecurities. But when you're in a fight, none of that survives. Whatever you are in that moment comes out. Your confidence, your fear, your control, your panic, your strengths, your gaps… everything shows. It’s uncomfortable sometimes, but it’s real. And that kind of realness is rare.

What keeps me hooked isn’t “winning.” Winning feels good for a moment and then fades. What sticks with me is progress. Those quiet victories especially when something finally clicks, when a move lands without effort, when I stay calm in a position that used to drown me. When I face someone who used to dominate me and suddenly realize I’m right there with them. That kind of growth hits deeper than any scoreboard. It’s the kind of improvement you feel, not announce.

Another thing I’ve learned: fighting forces me to be fully present. Outside the mats, my mind is all over the place ; work, stress, responsibilities. But the moment a match begins, everything goes silent. No overthinking, no noise, no distractions. Just instinct, breath, and reaction. It’s the closest thing to meditation I’ve ever had, even if it doesn’t look like it from the outside.

And then there’s the people. You can fight someone hard enough to leave marks on each other, and somehow that builds respect instead of resentment. Some of the closest connections I’ve made came from matches where barely a word was spoken. There’s a bond that forms when two people push each other with intention, not hostility.

Even the pain has meaning here. Most pain in life feels pointless — stress, accidents, the random stuff that just happens. But fight pain has a story behind it. Broken bones, bruised ribs, the soreness that hits the next morning… it’s all proof that you showed up. That you tested yourself. That you didn’t back down. It’s not pain for the sake of suffering but it’s pain with a purpose.

So why do I keep coming back?

It’s not ego.

It’s not dominance.

It’s not to play “the bigger guy” or “the better guy.”

I come back because this is one of the few things in my life that feels real from start to finish. It challenges me, centers me, strips away the bullshit, and gives me something honest - whether I win, lose, or get banged up along the way.

If you’ve ever stepped into a fight, truly stepped into it, you already understand exactly what I mean. And if you haven’t… there’s no perfect way to explain it. You either feel it, or you don’t.

But for those of us who do - that’s why we keep coming back.