Strange thing. In junior high, I was mercilessly tortured with mental cruelty by the vast majority of my classmates- it was the 'gifted' program, with lax rules that encouraged a sort of "Lord of the Flies" atmosphere that usually landed hard on poor Piggy me. Among them, there was one girl who was the absolute worst. She never missed an opportunity to let me know how worthless I was, and she seemed, at the time, an ultra-confident sadist to whom nothing would stick and which nothing would topple.
So. Time passes, high school happens, and I suddenly have passing dealings with this girl. She is no longer the cruel peacock she once was. She seemed unsure of herself, a little bashful, and not at all hostile to me any more- as if she was at a disadvantage in general and knew it. And somehow, my bitterness and anger towards her melted away, because she was clearly not the same person.
I did, for a long time, hold resentments against the people who didn't 'get me' in my school years- the ones who weren't actively hostile but didn't know what the hell to do with me, my narrow obsession with film and my unwillingness to fit in. Part of me hated them for their uncomprehension, and another part of me hated myself for not knowing how to get with the program. But with my recent diagnosis (at the annoyingly advanced age of 34), that all fell away, too. It wasn't my fault, so I didn't need to return to that bitterness anymore, which I was using to scapegoat whenever something went on in my life. I'm remarkably peaceful, knowing what I know now.
For what it's worth.