Emery Christianson

Today I was thinking about the amount of stress I’ve been under with family court in Minnesota, and the laws that I feel haven’t upheld my rights as a father. It made me think back to when I was a teenager racing motorcycles—especially around the time I was winning my first championship.

There was always noise back then. Parents talking. People sh*t-talking. Grown adults trying to influence outcomes so their kid could have an advantage over me. It wasn’t subtle. It was pressure before I even lined up at the gate.

And I’m realizing now that family court feels a lot like that.

Different arena, same dynamics.

People talking behind the scenes. Narratives getting pushed. Influence being used. Fairness not guaranteed. You’re judged before you even get a chance to show who you really are.

Back then, I learned something important: I couldn’t control the noise, but I could control how I performed. I learned how to function under pressure, how to compartmentalize stress, and how to stay focused even when people were actively rooting against me.

Championships aren’t won in one race, and custody battles aren’t decided in one hearing. I learned patience early. I learned endurance. I learned how to keep showing up even when the calls weren’t fair.

That athlete mindset—the one forged under pressure, scrutiny, and unfair conditions—is what’s helping me survive this process now. I don’t need approval. I don’t need validation. I need consistency. I need to stay steady. I need to keep showing up for my daughter.

This isn’t about winning something for myself. It’s about protecting my relationship with my child. And just like racing, the people trying to manipulate outcomes usually burn out. The ones who stay disciplined, quiet, and consistent are the ones still standing at the end.

I’ve been here before. I know how to endure. And I know how to finish.