Riveting Doctor Drama Spiraling: Myra Mabry’s Journey Through Truth and Transformation

When a successful doctor has to tell her parents in a single phone call that she’s been indicted, she’s bisexual, and she’s an addict—all while coming home from a European trip—you know you’re about to hear a story that has it all.

I recently sat down with Dr. Myra Mabry for what turned out to be one of the most gripping conversations I’ve had on Nightmare Success. Her journey reads like a Netflix series you’d binge on a rainy Sunday: a brilliant physician who rose to chief of department, an affair, addiction, federal prison, and ultimately, transformation.

What struck me most about Myra wasn’t just the dramatic fall from grace, but how her lifelong pattern of overachievement became both her superpower and her kryptonite.

”I Am Literally Cutting Into Human Flesh”

Myra grew up on a farm in upstate New York, learning work ethic the hard way. “I didn’t know that grocery stores existed until fourth grade when I broke my arm,” she told me. Everything came from their land—the white packages of meat with blue tape, vegetables from their garden, the whole deal.

But beneath this wholesome exterior, Myra was carrying heavy burdens. During her parents’ brutal five-year divorce, she discovered that the man she called Dad wasn’t her biological father. The revelation came as a weapon during court proceedings, leaving her with questions that would never get answered.

Her coping mechanism? Become perfect at everything. “I wasn’t just in the marching band, I was drum major of the marching band. I wasn’t just in the musical—it was Fame and I had to be Coco,” she explained.

This drive carried her all the way to medical school and eventually to becoming an OB-GYN. As she put it: “There is an arrogance and an ego that goes along with being a physician. I was an ob-gyn and, you know, that first time I made an incision for a C-section, I’m like, I am literally cutting into human flesh. There has to be a level of arrogance with that.”

The Prescription Nightmare Begins

The opioid crisis found Myra through a legitimate medical need—severe migraines during medical school. But like so many healthcare professionals, she fell into the trap of thinking her medical knowledge made her immune to addiction.

The turning point came after a pulmonary embolism. Despite being a respected physician at her own hospital, her colleagues dismissed her symptoms as anxiety. The frustration and pain led her to start writing prescriptions for herself. Then for her nurse. Then for family members.

“I started writing prescriptions to myself and then it started, I would write one for my nurse and then she’d give them to me, and then she would write one and then we started playing back and forth,” she shared.

The relationship with her nurse became toxic and manipulative. Threats flew back and forth—if one didn’t cooperate, the other threatened to call the medical director or turn them in to authorities.

183 Kilograms and a Kingpin Classification

When the DEA finally sat Myra down at work, her first instinct was to lie—the same coping mechanism that had carried her through decades of keeping up appearances. But the numbers were staggering. The prescriptions totaled 183 kilograms worth of opioids, earning her a kingpin classification in the federal system.

“They basically thought I was a kingpin drug dealer selling,” she explained. The federal government initially offered her nine years. She rejected it.

Walking into sentencing, Myra had no idea what to expect. Her lawyers hoped for five years, her husband predicted four. She received 54 months. And then came COVID.

What should have been a transfer to a federal camp turned into a year-long nightmare at MDC Brooklyn—one of the country’s worst facilities. She didn’t see daylight for an entire year, stuck in what she called “a box.”

But even there, Myra’s overachiever instincts kicked in. “I was walking an hour a day. I would do 15,000 laps of 13 steps. I did calisthenics, I did burpees. I lost 120 pounds in prison.”

The Hardest Part: Coming Home

Here’s what surprised me most about our conversation: Myra found reentry harder than prison itself. Despite completing an intensive drug treatment program and feeling ready to “conquer the world,” the reality of life after federal prison hit hard.

“I’m not being able to utilize my skillset is extremely frustrating,” she said. “I was an incredible teacher. I was so passionate. I was an incredible physician. I worked so hard and cared so deeply. And I can’t use those gifts anymore.”

But knowing Myra’s pattern of turning obstacles into opportunities, I suspect this is just another challenge she’ll transform into something meaningful. She’s already earned her life coaching certification and found tremendous support through the White Collar Support Group.

Her story reminds us that rock bottom can be a foundation if you’re willing to stop digging. As someone in her AA meetings once told her: “You hit your rock bottom when you stop digging.”

Myra stopped digging. Now she’s building something new.