Coming the terms with oneself

[Justagirl💃]

The acceptance side of this website Focuses on accepting ourselves as we are.

I came to terms with myself several years ago with the help of this website.

From pseudogynecomastia, gynecomastia, to intersex, we are all built exactly the way God intended.

I was born intersex AMAB, but raised as a tomboyish little girl in my early years. Sewing, knitting,  ballet, and catering weddings were my life until 17 years of age.
My father took over my upbringing,  and two years of testosterone treatments started. I was told to "man up", and 45 years of boy-mode ensued. 
Baggy dark colours,  bib overalls,  and layers hid my protruding breasts.
Several years ago neck and back pain brought me into using support (under the direction of my GP) and logging into this site (under the direction of my social worker. )

This site helped me find myself again. I'm still the tomboyish little girl grandma was raising inside. I came out as myself again. Best I could residing in Texas.

What is your story?

[42CSurprise!]

I'm reading a wonderful book by a woman who is a Zen Buddhist priest with the title Paradise in Plain Sight - Lessons from a Zen Garden.  I'm actually reading it for the third time.  Last evening I read a section near the end that speaks to the process you describe Birdie.  I'll quote a bit of it...

...It seems I've lived as though there were two of me.  Right where I stand is me as I am.  Opposite me is another me, one I've never met.  She is quite wonderful, charming and accomplished.  She sits longer, for instance, every day, and eats much less.  She says and does nothing she regrets.  She went to the exercise class I skipped; she didn't even glance at the dessert menu.  She has all the potential I have misspent: youth for instance, time, patience, and kindness. All the while that we have traveled side by side, she has taken a different road, one I've never seen.  I am taunted by her perfection...I always imagined this other me to be happier than the real me, which made me feel lacking and sad.  I wonder: Do we grieve most for what we've lost or for what we never had.

Letting go of her, I've found I've lost nothing.  The entire world was all mine to begin with.  She was just hitching a ride.  I can't believe I put with her nonsense for so long.

Accepting ourselves invariably requires releasing all the judgments we've had about who we are and how we've lived our lives.  The reality is we each have done exactly what we needed to do in every moment... though we've more often than not been driven to satisfy other's expectations of who we should be and how we should act.  That we haven't fit the model of what a man "should be" has left us with confusion and often shame.  I've always interpreted my affection for brassieres to be a mark of my deviance and believed with enough understanding and effort I could get over these feelings. As I'm discovering, what I'm doing with brassieres and the very real breasts that have been developing on my breasts is not a problem to solve.  No, I don't need to become the post boy for men wearing brassieres and I don't have to wear one all the time.  I'm not going to transition and have no interest to present to the world a feminine persona.  This isn't about need or comfort for me... it is about my could perhaps best be called a fetish.  Yes, I have breasts so I don't need to rely on breast forms to enjoy a well fitting brassiere.  We each are doing this in our own way.  One size does not fit all.