About Naomi Grootfaam | Inherited Stories

My story

I became increasingly good at understanding why I did what I did. But I was still doing it.

There was no single dramatic moment of revelation. It was more of a quiet, steady realization: I had become very good at explaining why I responded in certain ways, but that did not automatically mean I was responding differently.

By nature, I am someone who analyses and likes to understand how things work. That quality has served me well, but eventually, I hit its limits. You can know precisely where a reaction comes from and still find yourself repeating it an hour later.

To be honest, I found that deeply frustrating. I did not want to settle for explaining my patterns after the fact. I wanted to understand what it took to make a different choice in the moment.

That question became the core foundation of my work.

From guidance to my own practice

For around fifteen years, coaching and guidance have been the thread running through my career. For a long time, I did this in-house, and later alongside my work in education.

Throughout those years, I was always most fascinated by the human behind the behaviour. Why does one person disengage under pressure while another works twice as hard? Why does someone constantly seek reassurance? Why does another pull away the moment things feel uncomfortable?

I noticed my attention moving more and more toward what happens beneath visible behaviour. Toward what drives us to react the way we do, even when our rational mind knows we want something different.

Six years ago, I decided to focus on this fully as an independent practice. In the years since, I have deepened my expertise, including completing an accredited post-bachelor Coach Practitioner qualification.

Building my own practice gave me the room to refine my approach: honoring what has shaped someone, but always returning to what that means today, and what can change now.

How I work

Calm and approachable, yet sharp.

Clients experience me as calm and accessible, but also sharp. I do not only listen to what you say; I pay attention to contradictions, recurring themes, and the things mentioned almost in passing.

I am not a coach who simply nods with sympathetic agreement. I ask direct questions, and when I notice a pattern, I bring it into the room. Sometimes with seriousness, sometimes with humour.

I value depth, but I dislike overcomplicating things. If something can be said in plain language, that is how I prefer to say it.

Above all, our sessions are not a place where you need to perform. You do not need to have the right answers, explain yourself perfectly, or even know exactly what is wrong. We figure that out together.

My view on personal growth

I struggle with the extremes you often see in the coaching and self-help industry.

On one end, there is the idea that every problem can be solved with the right mindset, routine, or method. On the other, there is a tendency to treat ordinary human struggles as though there is inherently something wrong with us.

Not every difficult experience is trauma. Not every reaction needs a label. And no one can honestly promise that a handful of sessions will magically transform your entire life.

Real change is often far less dramatic.

Sometimes you already know what you want to do differently, and yet it remains hard to execute. Sometimes you have to practice a new response dozens of times before it starts to feel natural. And sometimes you simply fall back into an old pattern you thought you had outgrown.

I do not see that as a major failure. I see it as being human.

Recognising my own patterns

Vigilance is a familiar story for me.

The pattern I recognise most easily in myself is vigilance. Not necessarily as fear or panic, but as a state of alertness: scanning ahead, anticipating potential issues, wanting to be prepared, and keeping an eye on the bigger picture.

That alertness has its advantages. I am observant, I think ahead, and I am usually well-prepared.

However, that same trait can easily overreach.

When it does, you find yourself managing a problem that does not even exist yet. You try to think three steps ahead, or realize you can only truly relax when everything feels organized and accounted for.

The difference today is not that I never do this anymore. It is simply that I catch it faster.

When I feel a sudden surge of urgency, or the urge to step in and manage what is ahead, I make a conscious effort not to act immediately. First, I slow down. Do I actually need to do something with this right now? Is this mine to hold? Does this really need to be solved today?

Sometimes the answer is yes. And often, it turns out nothing is being asked of me at all.

Creating that space between my initial reaction and my next action has become a fundamental part of how real change happens.

Insight is a starting point. Change is what you do with it.

I became increasingly good at understanding why I did what I did. But I was still doing it.

Calm and approachable, yet sharp.

Vigilance is a familiar story for me.