Sean Strickland Told Dustin Poirier He's "Not Allowed" to Be Depressed: 24 Hours Later He Called to Apologize

Sean Strickland told Dustin Poirier to shut up about depression on Sunday. By Monday he was apologizing.

The full sequence took about 24 hours and it might be the most human thing Strickland has ever done publicly, which is saying something because it started with him being genuinely cruel.

Poirier went on the Diary of a CEO podcast last week and talked about what's been happening since he retired. The arrest at the Atlanta airport on Father's Day. The depression, the drinking. His relationship with his father, who is homeless. The therapy he's started. All of it raw and honest in a way that most fighters would never be because admitting you're struggling publicly in a sport that worships toughness is terrifying.

"I've had bouts with depression throughout my career, but man, when it hits me, it hits me hard," Poirier said. "That day it hit me hard."

The response from the MMA community was almost universally supportive. Fighters praised him for being vulnerable. Fans respected the accountability. Drew Dober posted a video about how dangerous retirement can be for fighters who lose the structure that competition provided.

Then Strickland logged onto X and chose violence.

What Strickland Said

"Dustin 'I'm depressed' bro what? You're rich and loved by thousands of people. Your not allowed to be depressed. Tell me why you're sad rich man? Sounds like this guy is a selfish POS."

Then the comparison that crossed a line.

"There are kids literally laying in bed dying of chemo right now that would do anything for one more f*ing day on this planet, and you're looking in the mirror saying, 'Oh, I'm sad, I'm sad.' Shut the fk up."

When Drew Dober posted his video about retirement struggles, Strickland responded with four words. "Just don't drink. Its that easy."

He also took a quote from Poirier's arrest body camera footage and used it to mock him during training at the UFC Performance Institute in front of other fighters while cameras were rolling.

The middleweight champion saw a fellow fighter at his lowest point and decided the appropriate response was public ridicule.

The Receipts

Here's where the internet did what the internet does.

Fans immediately pulled up a video Strickland posted two years ago on Instagram. In the video, Strickland is sitting in front of the camera looking visibly shaken and says:

"Man, all week I've been f*ed up, dude. I've been on the Twitter saying crazy sh, just spiraling. I woke up and I told my girl, I was like, 'Babe, I feel like a danger to people.'"

That's the middleweight champion. The man who just told Poirier that rich successful men aren't allowed to be depressed. Saying on camera that he felt like a danger to people because of his own mental health struggles. Despite being rich. Despite being a UFC champion. Despite having everything that he just told Poirier should make depression impossible.

The hypocrisy was so obvious that even Strickland's supporters couldn't defend it. "Male depression isn't real" said the man who posted a video about spiraling. "Just don't drink, it's that easy" said the man who grew up with an alcoholic father. "You're not allowed to be depressed" said the man who felt like a danger to people two years ago.

What Poirier Is Actually Going Through

Dustin Poirier retired after losing to Max Holloway at UFC 318 last year. Sixteen year career. Former interim lightweight champion. 30-10 record. Beat McGregor twice, fought Khabib for the undisputed belt. One of the most respected fighters the sport has ever produced.

And the transition to retirement nearly broke him.

On Father's Day, Poirier was arrested at Hartsfield Jackson Airport in Atlanta for public intoxication. Body camera footage went viral showing him visibly intoxicated and agitated, threatening to fight police. The footage was humiliating. The kind of clip that follows you forever because the internet doesn't forget.

After the arrest, a major sponsor (reportedly Bud Light) dropped him. He was absent from his regular podcast on Paramount+. His public image, which he'd spent 16 years building through charity work, honest interviews, and genuine sportsmanship, was damaged in one night.

On the Diary of a CEO podcast, Poirier explained that Father's Day was especially hard because of his relationship with his father, who struggles with homelessness. He said the depression he'd been managing during his career became unmanageable without the structure of training and competition. And he admitted what might be the hardest thing a public figure can admit.

"I know I shouldn't drink, and I drink anyway."

That's not PR. That's a man asking for help in front of millions of people because he's run out of ways to help himself privately.

Strickland Called Him

This is the part of the story that nobody expected.

Sometime between Sunday night and Monday morning, Strickland picked up the phone and called Poirier directly. Not a text. Not a DM. An actual conversation between two fighters who barely know each other, initiated by the one who had just publicly mocked the other's darkest moment.

After the call, Strickland posted on X:

"I spoke to Dustin and he is legitimately messed up by his actions. I thought he was just doing PR clean up tbh.. I guess not everyone is a POS like me lol. So yeah I repent and I am sorry Dustin. Hope Bud Light does the right thing with this one. He deserves the help."

MMA Mania called it "uncharacteristic." TMZ said "no one saw it coming." MiddleEasy noted that for Strickland, "apologies are few and far between."

And it's genuine. As genuine as Strickland gets. He called himself a POS. He admitted he assumed Poirier was faking it. He said he was wrong. And he asked Bud Light to give Poirier his sponsorship back.

From a man who never apologizes, never backs down, and never admits he crossed a line, that's significant. Not because it erases what he said. But because it means the phone call with Poirier was real enough to change his mind in 24 hours.

What This Actually Says About the Sport

Here's the thing I keep sitting with.

Strickland just became the middleweight champion by beating Chimaev in one of the biggest upsets of the year. He's on top of the world. The belt. The attention. The platform. And the first thing he did with that platform when a fellow fighter said "I'm struggling" was to tell him he's not allowed to be struggling.

That reaction isn't just a Strickland problem. Dana White has also publicly dismissed mental health conversations among men this year. Colby Covington piled on Poirier after the arrest. The culture around male fighters struggling with mental health is still built on the idea that toughness means never admitting you're not okay.

Poirier broke that code. He went on a podcast and said "I know I shouldn't drink and I drink anyway" in front of millions of people. He admitted the depression is real. He admitted he's in therapy. He did the thing that the sport's culture says you're not supposed to do.

And the champion of the middleweight division told him to shut up because rich people don't get to be sad.

At least Strickland called him back. At least he listened. At least he posted the apology. That's more than most people in this sport do when they're wrong about something this serious. But the fact that the initial reaction from the champion was ridicule tells you exactly where the sport's culture still is on mental health.

The UFC's CEO makes $67 million a year. He's publicly dismissed depression. The middleweight champion mocked a retired fighter's mental health before walking it back. And the fighter who actually asked for help lost a sponsor, lost his podcast spot, and had his worst moment replayed millions of times on the internet.

That's the environment fighters retire into. And people wonder why so many of them struggle when the fights stop.

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If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, addiction, or mental health, the SAMHSA National Helpline is available 24/7 at 1-800-662-4357. It's free, confidential, and available in English and Spanish.