This is my story; a memoir or a series of interrelated memories, of a person who, as a young child, suffered severely from asthma and allergies. At the time, there was a disagreement between traditional medical professionals and psychoanalysts about the causes of and treatment for these conditions; a disagreement that was mirrored in my family, with my physician father, wanting to treat me medically, and my mother wanting me to be treated by her psychoanalyst. I, unfortunately, was given the wrong treatment. In grade school I had trouble learning to read, spell, master arithmetic - all signs of a dyslexic brain, about which we did not yet know. And I was a poorly coordinated and clumsy, so I couldn't even enjoy many of the schoolyard games other children played. It is a story of the doubts, shame and alienation that such children experience; feeling such as inadequacy and inferiority and the belief that I was stupid. It also describes, despite their differences of opinion, loving and often helpful care from my parents, and from some teachers. And there were periods of respite, during summers in the country, which instilled in me an emerging love of nature and the enjoyment of childhood friends, some of whom remain 60+ years later. This book describes my gradual outgrowing and management of my asthmatic and allergic symptoms, and successful (for the most part) management of my dyslexia. It describes my experiences in college and post graduate education and offers selected sections of my career as a social worker and psychotherapist - including references as to how residues of my childhood ills and experiences continued to affect my adjustment in adulthood. The book describes my shift from a child dependent on a mother's over protective, smothering to a struggle for independence - sometimes expressed by my parents as oppositional traits, which I later reinterpreted as standing up for myself and others. It also addresses, in more detail, my problems in relationship to women and perplexing, frequent fantasies and dreams in which I am attacked, verbally or physically. My problems with women were helped in psychotherapy, especially group therapy. But my fantasies and dreams of attack were not adequately explained until, as revealed in the final chapter, I discovered, in an old and out dated textbook on Psychosomatic Disorders in Childhood, written by my mother's analyst, a revelation "nothing short of amazing", which powerfully explained my difficulties with women and my fears of attack. The book also describes the emergence of my talents as a painter and writer. It includes a number of my poems and dream which are described, by one reviewer as "well done" and revealing and supporting much of what is written in the text. And some of my paintings and photographs (shown only in black and white) illustrate both my affinity for nature and my development as an artist. In the end, I have learned to understand the difficulties, the traumas and the scars they left on my psyche, and to accept them as a part of who I am. That is why, in today I can say I "Grew Up Just Fine" and that I am "happy." I am also happy that, as one reviewer writes "beyond the justifiable good feeling of self-fulfillment, Dr. Trachtman offers the healing lessons of his life so others who have endured traumas in their own childhoods may benefit from the insights of his personal experiences."