Waterford — There is an old antacid commercial posing the question, “How do you spell relief?” The actor answers by writing in capital letters, “R-O-L-A-I-D-S.” (Sometimes, I write “ROLAIDS” on the foggy bathroom mirror after a shower for old time’s sake.)

But I beg to differ.

Relief, as seen on many of our faces Friday night, came at the end of our dance routines.

I know. None of you really see me as a dancer. That’s because I have the moves of an arthritic snail. But in the spirit of “for a good cause” and “getting out of your comfort zone,” I was a dancer Friday night at Waterford High in “Dancing With The Stars.” The gang at Waterford Youth/Senior Services, who try harder than even Avis does, sold more than 1,000 tickets for the bash to benefit all their work to help people.

A thousand people. Watching you dance. So much for that inspirational quote about “dance like no one’s watching.” Ha. Good one.

The show was Friday night. Bet some people around here were a bit sour from sitting in traffic all day. At least they got to go home. Us? We had to dance in front of 1,000 people. Time’s passage Friday felt like old sands through the hourglass, waiting, waiting, waiting for our turn on stage.

And yet it was a day for deep self-reflection. Like continually asking myself, “Why are you so nervous?”

I suppose the answer is rooted in forgetting the routine on stage, falling down, wondering what we really look like. But really, it’s this quote from author Brene Brown: “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.”

It’s about as real as life gets.

This was not our daily dose of reading fiction, otherwise known as Facebook, where we all portray our lives in Camelot. This was Worry-a-lot. But then a funny thing happened en route to a nervous breakdown: when you actually get up there and do it, you earn this unparalleled sense of satisfaction.

The dancers were magnificent. We did the Samba, Swing, Tango, Cha Cha, Waltz, Rumba, Hustle and Foxtrot. Our instructors at Arthur Murray in Niantic? Grossly underpaid. Special thanks to our guy Andrius Kirvelevicius, who was very patient with my inane questions and notable limitations.

The winners: The Bad Moms: Alyson Woznicki, Kerri Flanagan, Laura Nolda, Noemi Picardi and Holly Saad. Put it this way: They rocked all the blessings God gave them.

There were other notables: Hannah Joyner and Matt Thomas, Troy Gelinas and Heather Joyner, Jackie Jackson and Keith O’Brien (yes, the “Sports Doctor,” as judge Joe Macrino said, is now the “Dance Doctor.”) Other showstoppers: Elementary school kids Gavin Cacace and Vayda McNamara, who were up there all by themselves. We even had a dancing dog, Hodges, up there with Eric and Amy Fredricks.

There was a fabulous Argentine tango from Taylor Stino, Todd Patton, Andrew Stino and Jordan Newlin; Meaghan Lineburgh and Matt Rossi, my awesomely awesome partner Karen Rollins (she carried the team); Tom Moysey and Shawna Zito Hannah; Cool Beans (Sam Deflice, Marcus Noel, Alicia Balbat, Sean Morrison, Amy Wensel, Bella Diglio and Sam Ryan); and maybe the real MVP award to Jill Stevens and Rick McSwain. It took Rick most of the day to find his way to Waterford through all the bridge-related traffic. They rocked it with a samba to end the night.

Big party at Filomena’s after. A number of people approached me and said, “I could never get up there and do that.” My response: Of course you can. It’s only the most powerful thing on earth stopping you: That Little Voice.

My Little Voice was a real pain in the ascot all day Friday. Maybe we’re wired for the worst case scenario in our minds. But I wonder how much we miss in our lives because we’re just too damn afraid to “show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.” I’m telling you: You’ll like yourself more in the end.

Heck, I was even momentarily unbothered by the Yankees losing Friday night and how every road in New London is still under construction. I’ll resume by regularly scheduled curmudgeonly ways shortly. But for now?

All he wants to do is dance, dance, dance.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro