The last few weeks have been the longest I’ve ever gone without writing.

I’ve scribbled notes at work and left underlined memos on my calendar, but I’ve written nothing of importance.

The reason is simple: I’m angry.

I’m furious and every word I put on paper has been tinged with rage and condescension and despair. What they haven’t contained, though, are solutions or hope for the future.

For that reason, I kept waiting. I thought if I gave it time, this all-consuming bitterness would pass and I’d go back to my still-high-but-typical-for-me levels of hostility and be able to write with perspective, to eloquently express my beliefs and frustrations without implying the world, particularly my country, is beyond saving.

That isn’t exactly what happened.

Ironically, it was Donald Trump who gave me back my ability to write. I say it’s ironic because it was him and people like him who robbed me of my faith in humanity.

In Trump’s first interview as president, David Muir of ABC News asked him about the proposed — now in effect — ‘Muslim ban.’

Donald Trump replied, “The world is as angry as it gets.”

He’s wrong. Millions of people in the United States and worldwide, myself included, get angrier and angrier with each action he takes.

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Photo by Alyssa Hitchcock.

I was angry when he reinstated the global gag rule.

I became angrier when he signed an executive order aimed at repealing the Affordable Care Act.

I became angrier when his aid called his lies “alternative facts.”

I became angrier when another executive order called on Homeland Security to plan a wall for the Mexican border.

I became angrier when he gave permission to defund sanctuary cities.

I became angrier when he denied refugees access to the United States of America, a country founded by and for immigrants.

Donald Trump has been president for one week and I’ve realized my anger will not pass anytime soon; I have to quit trying to wait it out.

Now, rather than waiting to return to neutral, I’m fighting to get to a better state.

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Photo by Alyssa Hitchcock.

I know I can use the passion of my fury for good. That fire can fuel my writing and my actions, rather than hinder them.

So Trump, thanks for giving me my motivation back, and please note that this is not as angry as I can get. Anger isn’t like the non-renewable resources we are steamrolling through, used up and unable to be replaced quickly; anger is like the temperature of earth under your proposed legislation, continually rising and growing hotter.

Welcome back, articulate ranting, my old friend.

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