Memories become fragmented, rearranged into tales more instructive than actual. The events remembered are real enough, but not in the correct order of scale of significance, the importance of happenstances changes as experience amends import and relevance.
When I was a child I reacted as a child and the slightest affront could make my innards churn quite alarmingly. In hindsight the insults, indignities, where very slight, trivial even, something that the adult is required to accept as mere snidery, or simplistic maliciousness, intended but to psychologically wound, embarrass, without any true power whatsoever, only that which the victim cares to allow.
Words, phrases, comments that have pierced my mail remain tattooed upon my hide. The scars remaining livid to this day, still capable of inducing involuntary shudders, the remains of old redundant pain. Flesh heals, the soul not so much. Some hurt cannot be eased, not matter the strength of salve or width of bandage. The poignancy of a first kiss can make the elderly weep inconsolably.