Rey Mysterio Finally Opens Up About Why He Really Walked Away From WWE in 2015
For years, fans speculated about what really happened. Some thought contract disputes. Others assumed creative differences. But the truth behind Rey Mysterio’s 2015 WWE departure is far more personal than anyone imagined.
The masked luchador had been a WWE fixture for over a decade. His high-flying style and underdog spirit made him a fan favorite across the world. Kids imitated his moves in backyards. Adults appreciated the craft he brought to every match. He wasn’t just another wrestler—he was the proof that smaller athletes could headline in a business built on giants.
But by early 2015, something had shifted behind the scenes.
Those close to Mysterio noticed changes. The energy that defined his performances started flickering. The man who once couldn’t wait to get in the ring began looking exhausted before shows even started. The schedule that made him a star was slowly breaking him down.
The wrestling calendar never stops. Monday in one city, Tuesday in another. Flights at odd hours. Hotel rooms that all look the same. For Mysterio, that rhythm had been home for eighteen years. And finally, it caught up with him.
When Your Body Starts Sending Warnings You Can’t Ignore
Wrestling fans see the highlights. They don’t see the 5 AM flights. They don’t see the painkillers. They don’t see wrestlers icing multiple body parts just to make it through another night.
Mysterio’s style made everything harder. Every 619 twist put pressure on his knees. Every dive stretched muscles past their limits. Every match added another layer of wear on a frame that had been flying through ropes since he was a teenager.
By 2015, his body wasn’t just tired. It was screaming.
People around him noticed he moved slower. The spring in his step had faded. He wasn’t injured, not in the way wrestling fans think of injuries. No broken bones. No torn muscles. Just a deep, bone-level exhaustion that three hours of sleep and another flight couldn’t fix.
The Real Reason Had Nothing to Do With WWE Creative
Internet rumors at the time pointed to backstage heat. Some said he wanted more money. Others claimed he was unhappy with his spot on the card. The wrestling internet loves a good conspiracy, and Mysterio’s exit gave them plenty to work with.
None of it was true.
The decision came down to something far simpler. Mysterio looked at his life and realized he couldn’t remember the last time he was home for more than three days straight. His kids were growing up in snapshots. His wife handled everything while he chased arenas across the country.
Birthdays passed while he was in different time zones. School plays happened without him in the audience. Quiet dinners with people who knew him before wrestling became almost impossible to schedule.
That weight—the guilt of missing life while building a career—pushed him toward the hardest decision of his professional life.
Walking Away From Millions When Money Wasn’t the Point
Contract negotiations happened, but they weren’t the driving force. WWE wanted to keep him. They understood what he meant to their audience, especially the younger fans who saw themselves in his mask and his story.
But Mysterio wasn’t asking for more zeros on a check. He was asking for something WWE’s schedule couldn’t give him: time.
Time to sleep in his own bed. Time to watch his kids grow up in real time instead of through FaceTime calls. Time to remember who he was outside the ring.
WWE runs on momentum. The machine never stops. And in 2015, Mysterio realized he needed to step off the treadmill before it completely broke him.
The Freedom of Wrestling Without the WWE Schedule

Leaving WWE didn’t mean leaving wrestling. It meant wrestling differently.
The independent scene offered something Mysterio hadn’t felt in years: control. He chose his dates. He picked his opponents. He worked when he wanted, rested when he needed.
AAA welcomed him back like a hero. Lucha libre crowds hadn’t forgotten where he came from. The culture that shaped him as a young wrestler embraced him again, this time as a veteran with nothing to prove.
Those shows felt different. Smaller buildings, sure. Less production, absolutely. But the connection with crowds felt real in a way that had been fading during his final WWE months. He wasn’t performing for cameras anymore. He was wrestling for people who loved wrestling.
Why the Break Saved His Career Instead of Ending It
Looking back, that time away was the best thing that could have happened to Mysterio’s longevity. Wrestlers who push through pain eventually break. The ones who listen to their bodies find ways to keep going.
He spent months recovering without admitting he was recovering. Letting bumps heal properly. Giving joints time to settle down. Remembering what it felt like to wake up without immediately assessing which body part hurt most that day.
The mental reset mattered just as much. Wrestling at WWE’s level means constant pressure. Creative meetings. Producer notes. Merchandise numbers. Crowd reactions tracked and analyzed. By stepping away, Mysterio remembered why he started wrestling in the first place. Not for the business side. For the joy of movement, the art of telling stories in a ring.
The 2018 Return Everyone Saw Coming
When his music hit at the 2018 Royal Rumble, the reaction wasn’t just loud. It was emotional. Fans hadn’t forgotten him. They’d been waiting.
Mysterio looked different that night. Not just physically—though the time off had clearly helped. He looked relaxed. Happy. Like a man who’d remembered why he loved this strange business in the first place.
The run that followed proved his instinct to leave was right. He came back as a part-time performer, working select dates instead of the endless grind. WWE understood what they had in him. A legend. A draw. But also a human being who’d earned the right to pace himself.
What the Break Taught Him About Priorities
Mysterio has talked more openly about those years as time passes. The interviews reveal a man who doesn’t regret leaving, even for a second. He needed to prove to himself that he could step away. That wrestling didn’t define him completely. That his family would still be there when the crowds went home.
The business keeps running no matter who’s on the roster. WWE survived without him. The independents thrived with him. And when he finally came back, he brought a version of himself that could actually enjoy the experience instead of just surviving it.
That’s the part fans rarely consider. Wrestlers give everything to an audience that watches from home or sits in the stands. But they’re people underneath the gear. They get tired. They miss their kids. They wonder if any of it matters when they’re alone in another hotel room at midnight.
Mysterio’s 2015 exit wasn’t a retirement. It wasn’t a dispute. It was a man choosing himself for once. Choosing his family. Choosing his health. And in doing so, he guaranteed he’d still be wrestling years later, still connecting with crowds, still moving like someone who remembered why he put on the mask in the first place.
Some wrestlers leave too late. Some leave too early. Mysterio left exactly when he needed to—right before the business took more from him than he was willing to give.





