Puberty: hormone levels cannot decide whether they want to be male or female levels, end up as neither. Some breast growth, fuzz which with some imagination could be called 'facial hair'. Pelvis expands into a female form, development of feminine hips and waist. Voice cracks a bit. First menstruation at age 11, without being aware of what it is.
Really confusing puberty, really. Outcome very confusing, too. Definitely not recommended.
Puberty 2: testicles have been removed in 2011, so testosterone levels drop from ~25% male levels to regular female levels. Last year the ovaries suddenly decide to produce regular female levels of estradiol (oestrogen precursor). Hormone therapy resulted in an overdose of estradiol as a result. Stopping with hormone therapy fixed the OD symptoms (including linea nigra and hyper-PMS). Hormonally I am now a regular female, without any hormone therapy or the like.
Other changes include resumed breast growth by a full cup size (so far), and a general sense of well-being in my body. Psychologically it feels as if my body is sorting itself out at long last and this time my emotional side is along for the ride as well.
On one hand it's really confusing to literally go through puberty again while one is supposedly a proper adult already. On the other hand it's very cool to observe one's body - which one has become familiar with over decades - finally take on a shape which fits with the rest of it. Before it felt as if my body was an uncomfortable mess of many only partially worked out ideas.
It's hard to define exactly why a certain body works so well and evokes such a sensation of it being 'correct', yet this underlies exactly why people do or do not feel comfortable with their body. It's something which goes far, far deeper than a simple binary choice, such as one's biological sex. The thriving market for cosmetic surgery proves this point.
People chase ideals, without really understanding why. I am no stranger to this. Back when I thought that I was a boy, I wanted to be a tough guy, someone like Rambo, but with smarts. I'd imagine myself with a six-pack, full body-builder body. Definitely set some high standards for myself there. Then of course lots of things happened for years, with my parents divorcing and me moving across the country a few times.
During this time I realised that the external image of who and what I was, with which I had been provided over the years, was completely wrong. I discovered that I was intersex, not a guy. I found that I do not have a male body at all, but one which matches up perfectly with the average female body, aside from the visible genitals.
After this, over a decade of fighting with physicians and psychologists followed, almost all of whom were convinced that I was just confused, a transsexual boy or - if I was lucky - afflicted with this horrible disorder called 'intersex' for which immediate corrective surgery was prescribed (after going through the years of transsexual protocol successfully regardless, somehow).
In that environment I had little opportunity to form a coherent image of myself. Of my body or of myself as a person. It was akin to going through a regular puberty while living in a broken home, with frequent yelling between one's parents, violence and abuse towards oneself, as well as possibly worse things. All you can think of is pure survival, not about which is your favourite colour or whether you're more in love with that person or maybe that other one, or what you'll become when you are an adult.
I guess I mostly made it out of said broken home at this point. Along with last year's sudden start of a second puberty it has given me an opportunity to redo so much of what went horribly wrong that first time. This time my body takes on a shape which I can understand and feel more than just comfortable with. This time I have medical help and care for my intersex condition. Only negative point is having a cruel and abusive landlady who does her utmost to make my life hell.
As I have sadly noticed, it's nearly impossible to fix that last point. The adult world is one where one is expected to face abuse almost constantly, unless one can work oneself up into a position of wealth and power where the taking of such abuse is no longer necessary. I have noticed and fought against this constantly for the past twelve years, with the medical healthcare systems. To find that I will have to do all of the same again but now in order to find a place to live is disheartening to say the least.
Those doctors and psychologists who abused, harassed and brainwashed me over the years were absolute bastards, even if they were convinced that they were doing the right thing. It's okay for me to be angry at them, I think. I find it harder to sympathise with landlords, though. I cannot see how they feel that what they're doing is right for the person renting the property or seeking to do so. This makes the assumption that their behaviour is often borderline or full-blown psychopathic or sadistic much easier to make than with said doctors and psychologists.
I do find the many parallels I can draw here based on my experiences to be both fascinating and horribly frightening, though.
In the end I guess I can honestly say that I am happy and overjoyed that my body is giving me this second chance, also with the positive effect it has on my psyche. I just wish that I can finally leave the 'broken home' part of my life for good, by leaving the harassment and abuse from others fully behind me.