Meet Aleeza Kaplan

We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Aleeza Kaplan. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Aleeza below.

Aleeza, thanks so much for taking the time to share your insights and lessons with us today. We’re particularly interested in hearing about how you became such a resilient person. Where do you get your resilience from?

I’ll never forget something my father once said to me. I was in a difficult season, grappling with significant mental health challenges and, if I’m honest, stuck in a victim mindset. I don’t remember his exact words, but he gently encouraged me to tap into the resilience of my grandfather—his father, my Grandpa David.
Grandpa David survived the Holocaust. He endured concentration camps and death marches, and likely many hardships I’ll never know about. He was orphaned and came to the United States as a refugee. Later, he moved to Mexico, met my grandmother, started a family, and eventually returned to the U.S., where after many ventures, he found financial success. He built a beautiful life—a loving wife, four children, six grandchildren, and if he were alive today, he’d have six great-grandchildren.
He wasn’t perfect. You don’t survive that kind of trauma without developing some rough edges. But my dad was right—he was resilient. And knowing that someone in my own family carried that kind of strength gave me hope. It planted a seed. Not because I was comparing my struggles to his—they’re not the same—but because it reminded me that resilience was in my lineage. Maybe I could access it, too.
The more I learned about my family’s history, about Jewish history, and the enduring themes woven through our sacred texts, the more I realized I come from a long line of resilient people. They didn’t give up—and because they didn’t, I’m here. I carry that with me, and I choose to honor them.
So where does my resilience come from? From all those who came before me—and from the moment I made the conscious choice to believe I had access to that same strength. Nothing else changed except the belief that I wasn’t resilient shifted into the belief that I was. And over time, that belief became true. Not in a linear, polished way—but in a real, human way. A way I’m proud of.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

At the lowest point in my life, I checked into a mental health facility for what ended up being three transformative months. That experience completely changed the trajectory of my life. With time, support, and a deep commitment to my own healing, I not only got better—I began to thrive for the first time.
After completing the program, I often returned to visit. It remained a part of my support system and gave me an opportunity to stay connected to a community of others working toward healing. I would sit in on groups, take notes, and quietly reflect in my journal. One day during a group, a client asked the director of the facility a question about how to cope when someone sets a boundary and it spirals you into shame. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember it didn’t seem to land. I asked if I could share something, and he trusted me to speak. I said, “When someone sets a boundary with you, it’s not a rejection—it’s their way of keeping you in their life. It’s love that’s honoring both people’s needs.” People nodded. Something shifted.
Shortly after, I was offered a job. The role was “peer support,” and it felt like a natural fit. It allowed me to say to clients, “I get it. I was there not long ago, and here’s what helped me.” And they listened—because they knew it came from lived experience. Over time, therapists trained me to lead groups, and eventually I was facilitating some on my own, including those based on Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. I was even trusted to develop a dance-based curriculum—a story for another time.
Working with such a vulnerable population and alongside professionals like therapists and occupational therapists taught me so much. I realized that while I didn’t have the same formal education as some of my colleagues, I had something equally valuable: the ability to connect deeply, authentically, and effectively with the clients. That’s when I knew this work was my calling.
Eventually, for many reasons, my time at the center came to an end. It was actually one of the staff members there who suggested I explore coaching. Not long after, Coaching with Aleeza was born.
Launching my coaching practice has been the most aligned and fulfilling work I’ve ever done. I show up to every session with purpose and presence. I strive to be the kind of support I once needed—compassionate, honest, and empowering. I validate my clients while also holding them accountable. I tailor my approach to each person, using a range of tools, methods, and somatic practices—including movement and dance when appropriate.
What sets my coaching apart is the emotional safety I provide. I believe healing happens in the context of safe, trusting relationships—whether with a coach, therapist, mentor, or spiritual leader. I bring that safety, and I model what growth can look like. My clients feel that I care deeply, and they know I believe in their capacity to grow, even when they don’t yet believe in it themselves.
I’m proud of the work I do, and even prouder of the people I’ve had the privilege to support. I truly hope to continue doing this work for the rest of my life.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

One of the most important themes in my healing journey has been learning to recognize the ways I contributed to my own suffering. It’s incredibly hard—especially when we feel wronged—to acknowledge that, in many situations, we may have played a part too. Of course, this doesn’t apply to times of abuse or when we were powerless, like in childhood. But in the grey areas of life, being able to say both “I didn’t deserve that” and “Here’s the part I played” is what truly gives us our power back. When we take maximum reasonable responsibility—owning what’s ours, no more and no less—we create space for action, growth, closure, and real change.

I am a highly sensitive person. I feel like I experience emotions and experiences at significantly heightened levels compared to the people around me. I used to see it as a burden, it sure felt like one for most of my life. When I learned to acknowledge and relate to my sensitive nature as a superpower I began to lean into my authentic self and help others do the same.

One of the most valuable and transformative things I’ve learned is the power of sitting with discomfort. Every time we try to silence our unwanted thoughts—whether through distraction, avoidance, or numbing—we rob ourselves of the chance to truly heal. The quick fix may offer temporary relief, but real resilience comes from facing what’s uncomfortable and learning to move through it. That’s what carries us through the hardest moments.

If I could offer one piece of advice for anyone working on their emotional growth, it would be to reframe the goal. Healing isn’t about being happy all the time, never getting triggered, or reaching some perfect version of yourself. When we chase those ideals, we often feel like we’re constantly falling short.
Real progress looks different. It’s about learning to experience a full range of emotions and trusting yourself to navigate them. It’s about knowing when to sit with discomfort and when to reach out for support. When we shift the goal from perfection to resilience—from avoiding pain to moving through it with self-compassion—we begin to notice just how far we’ve come.
Growth doesn’t always feel like growth in the moment. But over time, it shows up in the way you respond, the small choices you make, and the kindness you offer yourself when things get hard. That’s where real healing lives.

Tell us what your ideal client would be like?

I work best with clients who feel things deeply and often carry a lot—whether it’s anxiety, people-pleasing, chronic illness, perfectionism, OCD, harsh self-talk, communication challenges, or the lasting impact of trauma. I also support folks navigating ADHD, autism, or a mix of all the above. These aren’t just professional interests for me—they’re personal. I’ve been through a lot of it myself, and that lived experience helps me connect in a way that feels intuitive, honest, and real.
Many of my clients tell me it feels like I’m reading their mind. That’s because I understand the hidden layers beneath these patterns—the fears, the self-protection, the exhaustion—and I bring both empathy and strategy to help you shift out of survival mode and into something more sustainable.
I have a special place in my heart for clients who use humor as a way to cope. Some of the funniest people I’ve worked with are carrying incredibly heavy things—and using their wit as a brilliant, adaptive survival tool. I get that. I know how to laugh with you when it’s needed and challenge you when it’s time. We’ll hold both—depth and levity—because both are part of healing.
Ultimately, I don’t need you to have it all figured out—I just ask that you’re honest enough to say, “something isn’t working,” and open enough to try something new, even if it feels a little uncomfortable or weird at first. If you’re willing to show up like that, there’s so much we can do together.

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