You're not so alone as you think you are - I've been there, too. At one point I was mixing large doses of Klonopin with what must have been liters of vodka, at my peak. More nights than I can count, I went to sleep neither knowing nor caring if I'd even wake up. Because my clonazepam was prescribed, it was inevitable that my supply would be gone weeks before a refill could be authorized. One week passed, after running out, and withdrawal set in. Immediately after the first seizure, I was blessed with an unusual but serendipitous affability. This pleasant state of mind persisted even after leaving the ER. Twelve hours later, another seizure put me right back in. At first, they wanted to discharge me with a script for more benzos, to interrupt my withdrawal until I could get more prescribed. Upon the insistence of their psychiatrist, however, I was admitted to the neurology unit. There I spent three days (my birthday was one of them), confined to a boulder they called my bed, on a cocktail of IV anticonvulsants that made me dry heave every hour.
I was and am still of the opinion that this arrangement was wrought by profit-seeking leeches, sucking dry the teat of my HMO coverage, but I had agreed to stay because it comforted my mother. When I left, they told me I'd have to take Depakote or that I'd have another seizure. It sapped me of all feeling except for rage. I wanted to lash out at everyone: the doctors, my family, and even my fucking cat. My hair started falling out and it clogged my drain; I had piss-colored, hairy water all over my bathtub for weeks. I started getting acne everywhere: my neck, my ears, and all over my back. Diarrhea became an hourly occurrence. I would lose blocks of memory and would often have to rely on family to recount many of my actions.
All I could do was ruminate. Every second of every day I spent pitying myself for the unfairness of my situation. To say I was worth anything to anybody would be a farce. And the worst of it is how it's affected my parents. Watching me seize, almost losing their son, who are the most loving and supportive people I know in this world. Every day, they root for me, after all that I've put them through. I will never, ever be relieved of the guilt that I feel for having done this to them. They are the reason I'm trying to keep my body clean now.
Please, OP, be grateful that you haven't hurt anybody like that, and please, for your sake, reach out to people. Malice, I've known you for years now and I know it's just a message board, but I can tell very clearly that you have a lot to offer in a friendship.