Top 10 Grief Myths I hear in counselling (and why they’re untrue)

In my time as a grief counsellor, there are key themes that arise time and time again. Often, clients feel pressured by ideas of what they “should” be experiencing. But “should” and grief are not words that belong in the same sentence. Grief is unique to each person, and there is no right or wrong way to experience it.

 Below are ten common myths I often encounter - and why they deserve to be gently challenged.

“You should be over it by now.”

Grief isn’t something you simply “get over.” There’s no defined endpoint or moment of neat closure where the grieving experience suddenly ends. Just as your love for someone doesn’t vanish when they’re no longer here, your grief doesn’t fade on a set timeline. Over time, life may grow around your grief - you might carry it differently or feel it less sharply - but that doesn’t mean it disappears. Often, it’s societal discomfort that imposes these expectations, not the natural process of grieving. One client I worked with didn’t fully face her childhood grief until later adulthood. Life had never allowed the space for her to truly process it until much later. Every grief journey is different, and there is no “right” timeline for healing.

“I must be grieving wrong because I’m grieving differently from my family.”

It’s always okay to grieve in the way that feels right for you. You are the expert in your own grief process. Some people need to cry or shout. Others are drawn to connection, seeking hugs and support. Still others prefer privacy and time alone to process. All of these responses are valid. You’re entitled to grieve in the way that feels right to you - just as your loved ones are entitled to grieve in their own way. Differences don’t mean anyone is doing it “wrong.”

“You need to stop talking about the person who died if you want to feel better.”

Well-meaning friends and family might avoid talking about your loved one for fear of upsetting you. But many people find deep comfort in remembering, sharing stories, and saying their loved one’s name.There’s strong evidence supporting the benefits of expressing grief and sharing memories in supportive spaces. Of course, some people grieve more privately - and that’s valid too. But when someone is forced into silence, it can deepen pain and isolation. If speaking their name helps, do it. Others around you might be grateful for the chance to share those memories too.

“I mustn’t be missing them if I’m laughing or having fun.”

It’s common to feel guilty when joy shows up during grief, as though happiness is somehow a betrayal. But the truth is, joy and grief can live side by side. Grief isn’t a single emotion - it’s a swirl: sadness, longing, anger, regret, guilt, loneliness, fear, love, relief, confusion… and yes, laughter. It’s like an emotional washing machine, and that mix is entirely normal. Experiencing moments of happiness doesn’t mean your grief is gone - it means you’re human. Both can be true at the same time.

“It’s important to be strong.”

Many people equate “being strong” with hiding their pain or not crying. But true strength often looks like allowing yourself to feel. Reaching out for support, being vulnerable, and making space for your emotions is an act of courage. Some people feel they need to be strong for their children or others. But when you allow yourself to feel, you often create a safer environment for others to do the same. Vulnerability invites connection and healing.

“Grief follows a set timeline or stages.”

This idea comes from the widely known “stages of grief” theory by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. But much of the nuance has been lost in how it’s been popularised, and the theory itself has evolved with time. Grief isn’t linear or predictable. You don’t tick off emotions one by one and come out “done.” You might feel okay one day and be hit by a wave of sadness the next. That doesn’t mean something is wrong - that’s just how grief moves. Life events, anniversaries, or unexpected reminders can stir it all up again. That’s normal. Grief is a rollercoaster, not a checklist.

“If you ignore it, it’ll go away.”

We’re often skilled at distracting ourselves from pain. But grief doesn’t disappear when ignored. You might push it aside temporarily - especially when life demands it - but eventually, those feelings resurface. That’s not failure - it’s just being human. Sometimes, autopilot helps us survive crisis. But when you do have space, and if it does feel right, giving yourself time to process your grief is an act of self-compassion.

“Something must be wrong with me because suddenly everything in life feels harder.”

It probably is the case that everything feels harder. Death is a major life disruption, and it can shake your world. Grief isn’t just about the absence of the person - it can alter relationships, identity, faith, interests, and sense of purpose. The ripple effects can touch every part of your life, compounding your pain. If life feels harder, it’s because it is - for now. That doesn’t mean it will always feel this way, but your struggle is understandable and valid.

“You should grieve more when they are biologically closer to you.”

Grief is not defined by DNA. We grieve based on many things - relationship closeness, life context, past experiences, final interactions, and support systems. Some clients haven’t grieved the death of a parent because the relationship was distant or fractured. Others have grieved those same losses deeply because of unresolved pain. Some people have told me they grieved a pet’s death more than a relative’s - and that’s not unusual. Bloodline doesn’t dictate grief. Don’t let guilt or pressure define how you “should” feel.

“Surely our family should come together and be closer - but we all seem to be fighting.”

This is more common than you’d think. Intense emotions, grief styles clashing, and unspoken expectations can cause friction. Without the stabilising presence of the person who died, family dynamics may shift dramatically. People may lash out because they’re overwhelmed. Some walk on eggshells to avoid more pain. But it’s often not the talking that causes the upset - the grief is already there. Finding ways to communicate with compassion, or giving each other breathing room, can help. Sometimes, safe spaces outside the family offer the relief and clarity needed to reapproach each other with care.

The main takeaway?

There is no correct response to loss. Grief is deeply personal. However it shows up for you - it’s valid. You deserve space, support, and kindness as you navigate it.

Wishing you a supportive community around you to hold and honour your experience. If you feel further support might help, please feel free to reach out for an appointment.

There’s no ‘right’ way to grieve. Just your way. And that is enough.