When I was 24 and still living with my parents, and a giant IV heroin gorilla on my back, the most cathartic thing I did was coming clean to my parents and asking for their help.
It came as absolutely no surprise to them, they suspected as much, but were shocked by the scope of my addiction. It was the first step I took towards getting my life back in order. Telling the people who care about me. The ones who were left anyways. I thought I had them fooled, mastered all my lies, spinning this ever more complex web of lies and excuses as to how I was still "doing fine". Of course, they saw through that shit from the beginning, and the only one who I was actually lying to and fooling was my own self. God damn did that take me a while to figure out.
Long story short, we talked for hours, figured out what options I had, and came up with a plan. It wasn't a good plan, because we have never been through anything like this before, but man do I love my parents for trying their best the only way they knew how. I decided then and there that I wasn't going to lie to them anymore, and if I started using again I'd just tell them, because it would be easier and I wouldn't lose whatever trust I had left. It's not a crime to struggle with addiction, and it doesn't make one a bad person. I was harder on myself than anyone else was on me. My parents just wanted to support me, get me the help that I need, and not lose me as their son before my life even started. Besides of my sponsor, my folks are probably the #1 source of support during hard times for me, and it makes all the difference.