When I woke this morning, I lunged for the phone to check the time, as I do most mornings when I wake unbidden by an alarm. Satisfied that I logged enough hours of sleep, I stared at my blank screen and wondered, “Now what?”

You see, I’m at a campground that’s bereft of those tiny little bars that link me to the rest of the world. When I’m fully connected, I typically start the day lounging in bed, wandering through my different social media accounts to catch up with friends and family, or so I tell myself. And this is partly true, as I dutifully fire off birthday greetings, cheer on accomplishments, and praise a friend’s dog/cat/child/meal/sunset picture.

But, truth be told, I also spend a considerable amount of time ogling pictures of those hashtags that interest me, which, these days, largely involve exotic travels and campervans (all the better when they’re combined). As I fall down endless rabbit holes, Googling places I’ve never heard of, 30 to 45 minutes have gone by and I’m still propped up in bed, in my pajamas, looking at other people lead super awesome lives.

I am certainly not the first to question the time I spend on social media and my goal here is to hold up my own usage and take a beady-eyed look.

On the one hand, there’s the invaluable connection that I mentioned above, which for someone who’s moved far away, is amazing. I can let my friends and family back home know what I’m up to in one fell swoop (or post) and I can track their lives from afar.

I understand that we’re really only following each other’s crowning, made-for-social-media moments and that I really don’t have a handle on their lives, nor they mine. Still, I’d rather have the connection than not, even if there’s very little reality involved.

It’s the other side of social media that concerns me more—the one where I’m identifying, and trying to keep pace, with a tribe of people with whom I share an interest, but no real personal connection. At the moment, this means #vanlife.

While this seven-letter hashtag played no small role in pushing me to purchase my van, its continued hold on me is disconcerting, as if I’m obligated to participate. Every time I pull into a campsite or drive along a vista-laden road, I find myself staging that winning van shot that’ll garner tons of likes and, may the gods be kind, go viral.

And I’m up against some serious competition—everyone else who’s in a van is doing thoroughly inspirational things in jaw-droppingly beautiful places (while wearing a bathing suit, practicing yoga, and eating THE most healthy foods). And they’re all so young and attractive and they look great in a thong.

And. I. Just. Can’t. Keep. Up.

What I’m starting to realize is that my vanlife is slowly being co-opted by #vanlife. And these are two very different things. Vanlife is crazy, disorganized, not always photogenic, but also incredibly rewarding. The opportunity to fully immerse myself into some of the most spectacular sights, sounds, and smells is what feeds my soul and gets me behind the wheel.

But not when I’m chasing #vanlife. That endeavor is frustrating and, quite frankly, I just don’t have the goods. I don’t really understand social media promotion, my van is more lived-in, less stage set, and I haven’t looked good in a thong in years, if ever.

So why do I feel compelled to try? Am I doing this for the next person in pajamas, scrolling through their social media in bed? Am I creating my own scrapbook of sorts? Am I trying to claim my place among this amazing subculture of vanlifers? Am I attempting to gain some notoriety and, maybe, just maybe, earn a living as a vanlifer like the elite few?

Well, the answer is Yes — to all of it.

Thankfully, my addled intentions got a bit of a wake-up call over the last weekend of March, when I attended a gathering of vanlifers. There, in one large field, were 75 vans that I could see and touch — giving me a chance to peek behind the social media curtain. And what I found there were, yes, some spectacular rigs that lived up the hype, but also a passionate group of authentic, kind, quirky, creative, and endlessly funny vanlifers.

Sure, some of them are rocking the social media world, through a Herculean effort I’ve come to learn, and it’s by necessity in order to sustain their lifestyles. Most, however, are just trying to find their little slices of paradise and inhabit the world on their own terms, as digital nomads. I met graphic artists, software designers, photographers, writers, and even a traveling piano teacher — and, against all odds, they’re not only making the lifestyle work, they’re enjoying the hell out of themselves in the process.

This experience was just the eye-opener I needed to find my way back to my vanlife lane and remember what I am, which is adventurer first, writer second, and a bunch of other things in a distant third. What I am not is a social media influencer, so why spin my wheels in this direction?

As with everything in life, I decided a compromise was best. I’ll continue to post gorgeous shots in the hopes that they may inspire someone else or add to a vanlifer’s travel agenda — and I’ll continue to follow others for the same reasons. But I’ll also put the hashtag aside more often and plug into what’s around me. And then turn to my words, because that’s where my rubber really meets the road.