Was there a turning point that changed the direction of your life or made you reconsider what you wanted from it?

Yes. Without question, one of the greatest turning points in my life was losing my mother.

She was not only my mother; she was my best friend and also an essential part of my business. We complemented each other perfectly. I was the creative side the image, the public relations, the teaching, the face of the company  while she was the numbers. She handled the accounting, the administration, and many of the practical details that kept everything running.

And I made a mistake: I never really learned her side of the business. I think somewhere in my mind, I simply assumed she would always be there.

When she passed away, I was grieving my mother and my best friend, but at the same time I suddenly had to understand a part of my own company that was completely unfamiliar to me. I felt as though I had been dropped into the middle of a maze without a map.

It happened during an already difficult chapter. My business had been severely affected, the physical space had to be rebuilt, there were debts to deal with, and I had to learn everything from managing money to understanding the administrative and government requirements involved in running a company. At that point, it was no longer enough to be the creative person or the face of the business. I had to learn how to truly run it.

It was humbling. After so many years as an entrepreneur, I found myself becoming a beginner in my own company.

Losing my mother changed me personally, of course, but it also changed the way I understand independence and responsibility. I learned that being good at what you do is not the same as understanding the business behind what you do.

I am still learning that side of entrepreneurship today. And perhaps that is one of the biggest changes her absence brought into my life: it forced me to step into a role I had never prepared myself for and discover that, even when life makes you start over in an area you thought you already knew, you can still learn.

What have you built, created, achieved or protected in your life that carries the greatest personal meaning for you — and why?

Of everything I have built throughout my life, perhaps what carries the greatest personal meaning for me is my name — not in terms of fame, but in terms of credibility.

I have spent most of my adult life in the public eye. My career has taken me through modeling, television, acting, entrepreneurship, teaching, public speaking, and now writing. The roles have changed, the stages have changed, and I have changed. But through all of those chapters, one thing has followed me everywhere: my name.

I have learned that a reputation is built very slowly and can be damaged very quickly. For me, protecting my name has meant trying to be consistent between what I say, what I teach, and how I conduct myself professionally and personally. It does not mean being perfect — I certainly am not, but it does mean being accountable for the choices I make.

I am also proud that the company I created 30 years ago still carries my name and continues to represent my work and values. Thousands of people have passed through my classrooms, training programs, and conferences over the years, and knowing that I may have contributed something meaningful to their lives gives that journey a purpose beyond professional success.

Companies can change. Careers evolve. Titles come and go. But your name follows you everywhere.

So when I think about what I have built and protected most carefully, it is that: the trust and credibility attached to my name. That is something no award, title, or professional achievement could ever replace.

What does your work give you beyond income or professional recognition? What keeps you connected to it?

Beyond income or recognition, my work gives me a sense of purpose. I have always believed that if you are going to dedicate such a large part of your life to your work, there has to be passion behind it. For me, passion is what keeps the work alive.

But I have also learned something important over the years: passion can change. There have been things in my life that I started with enormous enthusiasm and eventually chose to leave behind when I realized that the passion was no longer there.

Beauty pageants are a good example. For many years, I loved that world because it gave me the opportunity to provide young women with a platform, help them develop their communication and presentation skills, and watch them grow. Some of the young women I worked with eventually became public figures, and that was incredibly rewarding. But over time, I also experienced a side of that environment that no longer brought me the same joy or peace. And I learned that it is okay to recognize when a chapter has served its purpose and let it go.

Today, what keeps me connected to my work is the human impact. It is seeing someone become more confident, communicate more effectively, discover something about herself, or come back years later and tell me that something I taught her made a difference. The same happens when someone reads one of my books and tells me, “I needed to read this.”

Those moments remind me why I continue doing what I do.

At this stage of my life, passion is still essential, but so is peace. I no longer believe that success requires holding on to everything you once loved. Sometimes success is also knowing when to stay, when to evolve, and when to let go.

Has your definition of success changed with age and experience? What does a successful life mean to you now?

Absolutely. My definition of success has changed tremendously with age and experience.

When I was younger, success was much easier to measure. It was about achieving goals, building a career, being recognized for my work, creating a successful company, and always moving toward the next accomplishment. And I am grateful for all of those things because they helped build the life I have today.

But experience teaches you that achievement and fulfillment are not necessarily the same thing.

Today, I still have ambitions. I still set goals, create projects, study, write, travel, and challenge myself professionally. I don’t believe we have to stop wanting more from life simply because we get older. But those accomplishments are no longer the only way I measure whether my life is successful.

Success today is having choices. It is being able to decide what deserves my time and what does not. It is doing work that still excites me, continuing to learn, being present for my family, protecting my peace, nurturing my spirituality, and having the courage to walk away from things that no longer feel right for me.

I also think success is being able to look at your life honestly — including the mistakes, the losses, and the chapters that did not go according to plan — and still feel grateful for the person you have become.

At this stage of my life, I am less interested in proving that I am successful and much more interested in actually feeling that my life is meaningful.

For me, a successful life is not a perfect life. It is a life that feels like your own.

Which values have become non-negotiable for you, both in the people you choose around you and in the decisions you make?

I have quite a few non-negotiables today, but loyalty, honesty, empathy, and accountability are probably at the top of the list.

I learned the importance of those values during some of the most difficult years of my life. I have a saying that I use often: “When the ship is sinking, you discover there are very few life preservers.” Difficult moments have a way of showing you who people really are — and also who you are in their lives.

By 2024, I realized that I needed to “clean house,” as we say in Panama. I made the difficult decision to end some relationships with people I had known for more than 30 years. That was not easy. History creates attachment, and sometimes we hold on to relationships simply because they have been part of our lives for so long.

But I learned that longevity does not necessarily mean loyalty.

Today, I pay much more attention to how people show up, particularly when life is uncomfortable. I value people who are honest even when the truth is difficult, who can put themselves in someone else’s position, and who are capable of saying, “I was wrong.” I think the ability to take responsibility for our actions says a great deal about our character.

And I try to hold myself to those same standards. Non-negotiables cannot simply be a list of qualities we demand from other people; they also have to be values we are willing to practice ourselves.

I no longer believe that knowing someone for a long time automatically earns them a permanent place in my life. I can appreciate the history we shared and still recognize when a relationship no longer belongs in my present.

At this stage of my life, I would rather have a smaller circle built on honesty, loyalty, empathy, and mutual respect than a large one built simply on history.

What have you had to unlearn about being a woman, about success, relationships or life itself?

One of the biggest things I have had to unlearn is the idea that being a strong woman means doing everything on your own.

For many years, I thought strength meant being able to handle everything, solve everything, and keep going no matter what. With time, I have learned that real strength also means knowing when to delegate, when to ask for help, and how to recognize what is truly important, what can wait, and what does not require my personal attention.

I have also had to unlearn the idea that strength and vulnerability cannot coexist. A strong woman has the right to fall apart sometimes. She has the right to say, “I can’t do this today.” She has the right to be tired, to cry, to ask for support, and to not always have the answer.

Being vulnerable does not cancel out your strength. It is part of being human.

Today, I believe strength is not about carrying everything. It is about knowing what is yours to carry, what you can share, and what you can finally put down.

When life becomes difficult, what part of your character tends to carry you through — and where do you think that quality came from?

I think the part of my character that carries me through difficult moments is my ability to eventually find calm in the middle of chaos.

I wasn’t necessarily born with that quality. I think the woman I am today is the result of many setbacks, failures, mistakes, and moments when life simply knocked me down. Every one of those experiences taught me something about how I react when things don’t go according to plan.

But I also believe my character is a combination of two very different people: my mother and my father. My mother was very logical, measured, and calm. She would stop, think, and then respond. My father was much more expressive, spontaneous, and sometimes chaotic in the way he reacted to situations.

By nature, I probably inherited more of my father’s temperament. But with maturity, I learned to appreciate and develop more of my mother’s ability to pause.

That doesn’t mean I never react emotionally — I do. But I have learned that not everything requires an immediate response and that sometimes the best thing you can do in the middle of chaos is give yourself enough time to see the situation clearly.

So perhaps what carries me through is not that I am naturally calm or endlessly resilient. It is that life has taught me how to recover my center. I may stumble, I may react, I may even fall apart for a moment — but eventually, I find my footing and ask myself, “All right, what do I do from here?”

Is there something you feel called to contribute, change, create or leave behind? What would you like your presence in this life to mean to other people?

If you had asked me this question a few years ago, I probably would have answered immediately: I want to write a book. I have always believed that one of the most powerful ways to leave a legacy is through writing.

Today, having written three books, I understand even more why that mattered so much to me. Books do more than share knowledge. The right words at the right moment can challenge the way someone thinks, help them see themselves differently, or even change the direction of their life.

My books reflect many of the lessons that have shaped me. I have written about communication and the importance of setting boundaries; about resilience, self-love, spirituality, and learning to be intentional about the people we allow into our lives; and, most recently, about professional image and the reality that long before we open our mouths, we are already communicating something about ourselves.

But when I think about legacy, I also think about my students. I have been teaching for more than 30 years. Some of the girls who first came to me when they were seven or eight years old are now women in their forties. To see them as adults, building their own lives, and to know that perhaps something they learned in my classroom stayed with them is incredibly meaningful to me.

So I think my legacy lives in two places: in the words I have written and in the people I have taught.

My books will remain when I am no longer here, and hopefully some of the lessons I have shared will continue through the lives of my students as well. I don’t need people simply to remember that Tania Hyman existed. I would much rather know that something I taught, wrote, or shared helped someone communicate better, value herself more, set a necessary boundary, begin again, or simply see life from a different perspective.

That, to me, would be a life well lived.

If this article captured one sentence that truly represents you at this moment in your life, what would you want that sentence to say?

“At this stage of my life, I am not counting the years behind me; I am much more interested in what I am going to do with the years ahead.”

Photo by Janin Gaston

YOU CAN MEET TANIA HERE