@secretspy thanks. Honestly a diary might be a good idea. I like the act/physicality of writing!
The plot twist is this is bringing up lots of weird feelings about my Mum. She had Lymphangioleiomyomatosis (LAM) a chronic terminal lung disease that reduces your lung capacity over time. She effectively had it from 1995 till she died in 2016. As a child I watched her slowly lose the ability to do, well, most things. She was at 9% lung utilisation when she got a transplant in 2014 and enjoyed a normal enough life for 2 years, but she got ill (whilst on immunosuppressants) in 2016...
Now knowing what she physically felt like (and probably feeling far better than her in her later years) is making me feel guilty. Did I do enough as a child and teenage to help out? Could I have been more sympathetic and understanding rather than a normal stroppy teenager? I did help out because helping out was ingrained into my brother and I as a child as something we just had to do but I'm pretty sure we did the minimum...
Perhaps something to discuss with the therapist lol.