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Loss has touched my life in many ways. My first significant experience was losing my mother at age 13. Before that, I encountered intangible loss. At age 4, my family moved from Nigeria to Saudi Arabia, and though I don’t remember much, when we returned to Nigeria at age 7, I was overwhelmed by complex emotions I couldn’t explain. I was grieving the loss of my first school, the country I had started to know and the life I was beginning to build. Later, I grieved the loss of my self-esteem after experiencing failure when I had to repeat my first year at the university. A part of me died in that moment—my confidence, belief in myself, and sense of identity crumbled. This early experience taught me that grief isn’t limited to death; it can stem from any significant change or separation.
But nothing was more shattering than losing my 16-month-old daughter many years later. Her death shook me to my core. She was diagnosed with an incurable genetic disease, spinal muscular atrophy, and no loss has cut me so deeply. I was angry at God for not granting the miracle I had prayed for. I was numb, confused, and overwhelmed with guilt. I questioned everything I had done during my pregnancy, wondering if somehow it was my fault.
The cultural myths around grief complicated my healing process. I often heard, “Replace the loss,” as if having another child would erase the pain of losing my daughter. I also heard “Be strong,” but no one explained that. Why should I hide my true feelings? Why should I be expected to move on when I was still grieving? Worse, had I been in Nigeria, I would not have been allowed to attend my daughter’s funeral. The thought of missing that moment of closure is unimaginable.
Then there’s the ever-present myth that “time heals.” But I have realised that time alone heals nothing — it’s the actions we take during that time that lead to healing.
In our society, the expectation to “be strong” during times of loss is deeply ingrained. From a young age, we’re taught to mask our pain and present a façade of resilience. For me, losing my daughter meant grappling with the pressure to uphold this cultural ideal while my heart was breaking. Friends and family encouraged me to move forward quickly, suggesting that another child would replace my loss. But grief isn’t a linear process — it doesn’t adhere to societal timelines or expectations.
I have realised that grief isn’t reserved for death alone. It can stem from any significant loss, such as a broken relationship, lost dreams or betrayal. If we continue to feed into cultural misconceptions, we risk prolonging unresolved grief, which can leave people emotionally stranded for years.
Grief, as I have experienced it, never fully ends. It rather evolves. It doesn’t have a clear endpoint; it’s a deeply personal journey that changes over time. While the intensity of grief may lessen as you heal, it often becomes something that you carry with you in different ways. It may evolve into a quieter presence, surfacing at unexpected moments, but it doesn’t always fully disappear. It integrates into our lives, directing us towards ways we can honour what we’ve lost while moving forward with hope and resilience.
But unresolved grief on the other hand can weigh you down and negatively impact your entire life. Many of my clients carry unresolved grief for years. Unresolved grief can manifest in many harmful ways, from emotional and physical distress to impacting relationships and daily functioning. When people don’t have the space or tools to process grief, it can accumulate with each new loss, making healing more difficult over time. It’s like an emotional weight that, if not addressed, can harden into bitterness, causing pain to oneself and those around them.
Healing is a journey and it starts with confronting the myths and embracing the vulnerability of grief. As we rewrite our understanding of loss, we create space for genuine emotional recovery. Grief therapy was crucial for my healing. It gave me the space to process my emotions, and with God’s help, I began to find peace. Journaling, talking to trusted loved ones, and gradually allowing myself to feel were also important. Over time, the pain evolved into a quieter sadness. I’m no longer overwhelmed by the grief, but there are still days when I miss my daughter deeply.
To grieve well, we need practical tools — journaling, talking to a professional, or even sitting in silence with our emotions. These actions allow us to process loss on a deeper level and challenge the damaging stories we’ve been told. Grief is a natural emotional response to a significant loss, and it looks different for everyone. It’s okay to cry, to express your feelings, and to seek support, whether through therapy or conversations with loved ones. Doing so doesn’t make you any less faithful or strong. Moreover, if you’re unsure what to say to someone who is grieving, it’s better to say nothing than offer empty words.
My experiences have taught me that time doesn’t heal; it’s what we do with that time that allows healing to happen. We must be willing to confront the pain, to dismantle the myths surrounding grief, and to embrace the vulnerability that comes with loss. Only then can we begin to find peace and create space for genuine emotional recovery. Grief is a journey, and while it may never fully end, it does evolve into something we can carry with grace.
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Feature Image by Gabby K for Pexels
The post Stella Agwor: Unpacking the Myths of Processing Grief appeared first on BellaNaija – Showcasing Africa to the world. Read today!.
