Wolf has been sharing a room with one, two, and occasionally three other guys for the majority of his time at CHYC, and when he was transferred back to his original unit, we all hoped for a more harmonious situation.
Starting off well, Wolf's first roommate subsequently graduated and left the community, and, seeing glimmers of leadership beginning to emerge from our son, staff crossed their fingers and placed a new boy as Wolf's room partner.
Thursday morning Wolf called for the Hour of Power with an angry, resentful, and frustrated tone to his voice. It seems that Roommate New Guy got angry when Wolf and some other guys wouldn't let him play Dungeons and Dragons (don't get me started on that game with Asperger boys, but I'll save it for another post someday), and flew into a rage, stomping into the shared room and wreaking havoc upon Wolf's stuff.
Wolf was willing to let go the bedding flung around the room, the Pokemon cards hitting the ceiling and such. What really hurt was the books. His favorite titles (and some of mine) ripped in half, torn with a retaliatory fury. As an avid reader and the mother of one, the idea of someone sacrificing books in the name of his own personal insecurity gave me great pain, and I could empathize with Wolf in a way we have not, to this point, been able to connect. I got it. I get it. I am angry too.
The other boy has been dealt with, for sure. But that's not entirely the point. Yukon, Therapist B. and I have all been working really, really hard to help Wolf understand that stuff like this (figuratively or literally) happens all the time in life. And sometimes we (figuratively or literally) are at a loss for/of words. And wow, does that hurt. But not fighting back and carrying on is so hard to explain to a child who thinks in the now and not the later except from a revenge sort of mantra.
But then, my words are sort of lost right now, too.